my-mind-palace-blog:

Lavender Brown didn’t die in the battle of Hogwarts. It was a near thing, but she wasn’t pushed down so easily. At first, she was horrified to see the scars on her face and discover that she was now afflicted with lycanthropy. She had no prejudice against werewolves (Remus Lupin was the best DADA teacher they’d ever had, after all), but she was well aware of all the difficulties a werewolf faced in the British wizarding world. But this last year had showed her that she was made of sterner stuff than she could have imagined, so she picked herself up and got to work. She put all of her vastly underestimated potions skill that she’d used for cosmetic creations and set to work improving the wolfsbane potion to create a medication regimen that meant the days before and after the full moon were punctuated only by mild tiredness instead of the flu-like symptoms so common before, and so that a werewolf could not only keep their human mind on the night of the transformation, but also be fully aware to be able to truly enjoy the night of the full moon. After waking up one too many times with leaves and brambles in her hair, she chopped off her dark curly locks (a/n I believe that she is black, after all her unacknowledged actress in the movie was for the first few movies until they actually decided to give her LINES, then they hired a white girl) into an easy-to-maintain pixie cut. She found that just a sweep of dark kohl accentuated her now-amber eyes in a way that all the makeup she piled on before never did. And she was proud of her scars. They were the proof that she helped save the wizarding world.

She started a safe house for werewolves to transform and campaigned in the ministry for equal rights for magical creatures. She adopted all of the children who were cast aside after they were bitten. She used her healing prowess to develop post-attack treatments so that even muggle children bitten usually survived. She taught them to be proud of who and what they were.

The first time she went to a ministry ball after the war, everyone who liked girls (and a few who didn’t think they did) turned to her to stare. Despite her scars, or perhaps because of them, she was alluring. She carried herself with confidence. Her simple but form-fitting dress robes accentuated lithe muscles from nights running under the full moon with her pack. Her short hair framed her face and her eyes glowed with strength and power. She had many propositions from hopeful suitors, but she wasn’t interested at the moment. She had her cubs and her confidence and that was her focus right then.