Diana Pierderi has voluminous black hair that reaches the middle of her back. She also has vibrant green eyes set in a heart-shaped face and full lips. She has a light tan that makes her seem to be of either Hispanic or East European roots, which is slightly correct, because, although she was born in London, her father was from Russia and her mother from Peru. Diana has high cheekbones that hint at nobility, and she carries herself with the grace and poise of a Princess born and raised. She is of average height, if on the shorter side, with a height of 5'7 inches, with moderate amounts of curves that make up for what she lacks in height.
Diana often holds her personal feelings close and rarely allows anyone to get close to her. She is deeply loyal, which is why she doesn't want to let anyone in. She doesn't want to risk getting hurt any more than she's already been hurt. But once that harsh exterior has been cracked, she will do anything for her friends. She has a slightly sarcastic nature that tends amp up whenever she's tired or hungry. She is also brutally honest. She will tell the truth, no matter the consequences. The only thing that hinders that is her loyalty to her friends. That being said, she also has the tendency to lash out when she's feeling pressured. She also enjoys pulling the odd prank on people and it may be noted that mischief is almost always spotted in her eyes.
Diana has always been rather good at defending herself, whether verbally or physically.
Diana has no problem with putting another person in their place when they've obviously (I mean, in a very obvious way) wronged her.
Her Father, though she swears that she hates him, is the one person she has left in her family.
Her few friends, though fully able to protect themselves, are the people she would guard with her life.
Diana has no time for those who fake their way through things. She's the type to get as much as she can in one day, at one time.
My name is Diana Pierderi, which, I've been told, is Russian for "Sorrow." Whatever reason my mother had for giving me a surname with such negative connotations, I will never know. Maybe it was my father's last name. No, I'm lying. It's definitely my father's last name. But that's life, isn't it? The inability to fully comprehend that which you were not around to hear or see or know.
That got...Anyway, I'm seventeen years old, and I have absolutely no knowledge of magic. Well...almost none.
See, when I was six years old, I met my father. I hadn't had the slightest clue who he was or where he'd been for the first six years of my life, and you could say I was slightly hostile toward him in the beginning. A hostility that's faded only slightly. Apparently, I got my looks from him, both the green eyes that always seem to see far too much for their own good, and the voluminous black hair that falls in waves to just below my shoulders, even the light tan of my skin. But I'd give anything to just have something that belonged to my mother.
Anyhow, I figured that meeting my father for the first time would be- for lack of a better word- magical. And, in a way, it was. Just...not in the way I'd been expecting.
My father...I've never actually had to explain this to anyone before, because, honestly, who would believe a hyperactive child with a bit of-alright- a very active imagination? No one in their right mind.
But I feel like this time will be different. Maybe this time someone will actually listen. My father was a wizard. You know, one of the wand-waving, broom-riding, save the world type wizards. Only, he didn't do much saving. He was apparently one of the best of his time. Apparently.
But since meeting him, I've begun to notice things. Things like the way the teapot steams when there is no fire underneath it. That only happens when I'm really angry. And I've ever only gotten really angry once. I swear it.
One of the most memorable moments I have stored in my mind, though, was when I shattered my mirror. Which sounds far more violent than it was. I remember it all so clearly. I'd be scared, whether from the wind that tore ferociously at the trees outside, the rain that pattered endlessly on the roof of the house, or the boom of the thunder outside my window, I have no idea. Maybe it was a combination of all three. But after one particularly loud boom, I had jerked upright in bed, screaming as my mirror turned into a dozen little trinkets on the floor. That was the one time I fully believed my father was telling the truth.
And I do believe that's all. It should be. For now.
Diana enjoys all the time she has with animals, magical and non-magical alike. She discovered her love for animals when she stumbled across a wounded kitten and took it in. The kitten healed and is now a sleek beauty with the name of Nyx.
Diana may also enjoy writing, to the degree that it's nearly impossible for her to not be constantly thinking about new things to write. She started writing as an outlet, to let go of emotions that she felt were too toxic to contain.
Diana's boggart would probably take on the form of pure darkness. More specifically, herself alone in pure darkness, with no friends, no help, nobody. Just emptiness. She feels as though the more people she pushes away, the closer she gets to living her fear. This is no ordinary childhood fear. She fears being alone in darkness because, as a child, she had to constantly force her emotions down, away from the limelight, and the emptiness of darkness exposes the reality that the more she's tried to push her emotions away, the more empty she becomes. And the less friends she has.
Mirror of Erised:
Diana would look into the mirror and see herself in her mother's arms. It's a wistful dream, one she's been longing for since her mother passed away when she was six years old. Her mother's untimely death left Diana with a pit in her stomach and a father she can't seem to connect with. So, it's logical that she'd want to be able to spend time with her mother again.