Ethel Greengrass

In the middle of a still snow-covered forest, a group of fur-cloaked individuals shiver from the bitter chills. With every breath, a cloud of mist emerged from their mouths as if they were some sort of mystical creature. With teeth clattering, the shortest member of the group, a middle-aged, pudgy wizard with delicate-looking features huffs loud enough to be heard, "Grandmama, it's cold."

Everyone in the group turns their head in unison towards the back of their pack. There stands Ethel Greengrass in all her splendor despite her years. She wears a thin, embroidered cloak and unlike the rest does not seem to feel the cold. Her waist-long hair is golden white and hangs loose. The only indicators of age are the faint wrinkles on her face as her skin is still smooth and just as moon bright as in her youth. Yet what draws the eye first are her piercing, hypnotic light-colored eyes.

The elderly Veela raises her intense hawk-like gaze to meet the gaze of her grandson, Mordecai Greengrass. The pudgy wizard quivers as if he was still a child and quickly looks away in shame. None of the others in the group dared to protest and obey the command of the family matriarch. "The moon is nearing its peak, we must hurry," the elderly Veela matter-of-factly declared.

"Yes, Grandmama," all Ethel Greengrass's descendants obediently answered in a unified chorus. They pick up their pace allowing the family matriarch to walk at her own leisure. It was how she liked it.

As Ethel Greengrass moves forward her Veela hair fans out naturally despite there not being the slightest breeze. It was a common trait for a Veela to possess. And it was quite a useful trait to have as it kept long hair from becoming tangled up.

Her sharp eyes observe the back of her countless descendants. In her youth, Ethel had been a very proud and rather beautiful Veela much like her sisters, her kin. However, one day against all odds she met a wizard, who came from afar. She was curious and inquisitively observed the wizard. With time, the wizard gained her trust, and before she knew it their time swiftly came to an end. It was time for the wizard to depart and return to his own land.

Ethel's heart for the first time in her life broke, she simply could not allow the wizard to leave. And so, she made a choice; she chose to leave her grandmother, mother, aunts, sisters, and cousins, all of her kin to follow the wizard back to his homeland. Despite the fierce heartache it had brought her, she had never once regretted following her mate back to his cold and rather wet homeland.

They were greatly blessed in their union; Ethel bore her mate six daughters and a single son. Veela's traditionally only bore daughters, when they mated with other magical beings. And they would only bear a son when they mated with a wizard. She did not truly mind and was greatly pleased that she could aid her mate in continuing his family surname as it was of great importance to wizards.

Her six daughters, all devasting beautiful were sent to Beauxbaton's when the time came as they had inherited their father's magic. She dearly wished for her daughters to meet with her kin, their Veela matriarchal clan. And all six daughters did, there they visited her clan and learned the old ways. It filled her with immense pride and joy knowing that the old ways would live on through her daughter.

As for her only son, he was sent to Hogwarts to keep the old ways of her mate alive. And Ethel did not truly mind as it was only fitting that her son followed in her mate's footsteps. And her son in fact became a powerful wizard by his own merit.

When the children came of age, all six daughters married wizards of her homeland. This was only proper as the land of their foremother's called to them, it was in their blood. In the homeland of their clan, each of her daughters bore many daughters of their own and only one son to their wizard husbands.

Despite the fact that every single one of her six daughters resided in her native homeland so far from her, Ethel felt more pride than loneliness at the certainty that she had made her kin proud. Her matriarchal clan was proud of the great strength she had added to them by the six daughters she had borne. And the countless more descendants through her six daughters that had been added to the clan.

However, she was not the only Veela in her clan that had selected such a difficult path in life. Some years ago, a daughter of her first sister, a beautiful Veela had also fallen for a wizard from their homeland and mated with him. Tragically, her niece's mate had perished very young in an unexpected accident resulting in only a single daughter being born to them.

Ethel only too well understood the pain of losing her mate. Her youngest and only son, Nicodemus mated with a witch and sired three daughters. Yet against all impossible odds, two sons, Mordecai and Benedict were born to them. However, their joy was not meant to be. Not long after the birth of Benedict the youngest child, a great war began among the wizards. Her husband (and mate), her only son, and his wife all perished in an unexpected attack led by a dark wizard named Grindelwald and his equally dark followers!

Just like a Hen Hawk gathering her eyas under her wings, Ethel raised the five children of her son, her grandchildren. Having lost their father, mother, and grandfather all at the same time, the tiny chicklets grew rather close to her. Her three granddaughters, despite learning the old ways of the clan, all mated with wizards belonging to the cold, wet land of her deceased mate. They desired to stay in the lands of their birth and remain near their grandmother. The eldest grandson, Mordecai married a proper British witch according to him. However, her youngest eyas', her youngest grandson Benedict mated with a witch of her own native homeland.

Her three granddaughters each bore many daughters and only a single son to their wizard husbands. As for her two grandsons, Mordechai only had a son named Salinger, and two daughters, Edna and Rosie. And although the last child did not possess any wizarding magic, she was that much dearer to Ethel's heart. Unlike her elder sister, Rosie could feel the old ways and respected them despite her debility.

Ether's eyes turn to glance at the youngest of her chicklets, Benedict. He was certainly taller than his elder brother but slender with golden silver-like hair, and bright hazel eyes. There was a light of mischief in his eyes that resembled that of her deceased mate.

This mischievous grandson had four daughters: Cornelia, Elspeth, Eudora, and Henrietta. All four girls had married wizards of her mate's wet homeland, and each had already borne one to three daughters but had yet to bear their wizard mates a son. In time, they would, but her granddaughters were somewhat impatient. No doubt inherited from their wizard ancestry.

Though there was still one more chicklet left, the son of her youngest eyas, Terry named in honor of her deceased mate, Terrance. The mischief-eyed child took after his father and attended Hogwarts. It was right he learns the ways of wizards, but still, Ethel rather missed the child.

Ethel's nose flares as she scents the air and glances up at the moon. The time was drawing near, and she must confirm her suspicions! Moving impossibly rapidly forward for one of her age, she quickly caught up to her descendants and even surpassed them. "Pick up the pace!" She sternly said pressing firmly forward.

The shivering fur-coated witches and wizards pick up the pace obediently and hurry forward down the familiar path that they had all taken every winter since they had become an adult. It had been a magical, mystical event when they had come of age, but now older and wiser, it seemed to be only a tiresome chore. But not a single one of them had the courage to debate that fine point of topic with the matriarch of their family.

However foolish they might be none of them were stupid enough to say that to Grandmama's face, especially considering the fact that she was a Veela. They had seen her throw fire balls from her hands and transform into a bird-like creature with scaly wings when furious, and they all knew better at this point than to argue.

At least most of them did, but Benedict did try to rile her up every now and again. Then again, Benedict was also the only one whom Grandmama never seemed to become truly mad at. Not that the Veela would ever admit it, but she doted heavily on this chicklet for much like Rosie, he too held a special spot in her fiery Veela heart.