Author's notes:

I'm putting this up now, although I've only written the first two chapters and who knows how far I'll write from there. My muse is probably the most flighty thing I've ever known.

For a while I was trying to avoid the clichés that invariably come from writing a fanfiction with an original character. Then I realized how futile that was, so I'm just along for the ride. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. One thing you should consider before you call her a Mary-Sue: She does have a fatal flaw. Several in fact. (As well as minor ones that will reveal themselves.) They should become obvious. She is no more a Mary-Sue than some of the canon characters.

Also, you may notice that I abuse commas and the whole thing may seem a little wordy. That is because my character talks like that. Even when the story is told from a 3rd person perspective, it'll remain a little overly decorative speech-wise. Also, throughout most of this story I'll be pretty in-character while writing, so whether it's 1st or 3rd person, it'll sound about the same.

I appreciate all feedback, so please leave reviews if you have the time. This includes corrections; because even when I proofread I don't do it well. I hate proofreading with a passion.

Disclaimer: I own only my original character and her family.

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Prologue

When I was younger all I wanted to do was be just like my mother. She was a beautiful lady who, rather than play my father's inferior, acted the part while always being able to make him see things her way. I admired this ability that she had. The ability to charm a person with no tools other than one's self – that is real power. People can keep their wands; they're all well and good. My father may have been powerful wizard, but my mother's ability to control him meant that she was the real head of the family. I suppose it all comes down to a desire for power. Controlling people is everything. That was the first lesson I learned.

It was my mother who was my teacher all throughout my childhood. My mother taught me reading, writing, elocution, and etiquette. I had learned to speak three languages by the time I had reached five years of age, not through my own intelligence but through her willpower. By eight years ago age I was learning the great Italian and French arias as well as Beethoven sonatas on the piano and Bach partitas on the violin. Culture was poured into me and I, eager to please my mother, did all I could to soak it up.

Age ten found me at my first ball. It was a gala that my family put on every year around Christmas-time, and since it was my first public event my mother had the dress I was to wear specially made. It was a light cornflower blue, floor length and high-necked so as not to emphasize my still boyish physique. I felt like a princess in the puffy skirt, and I received many compliments throughout the night. By the end of the experience I had been firmly convinced that I was, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature to have ever graced this earth.

When I received my letter from Hogwarts after my eleventh birthday, my parents were pleased but not surprised. I was, after all, from a long line of pure-bloods, and I had displayed magical abilities from a young age. As a toddler I had enjoyed locking my nanny out of my room without leaving my bed. The old squib had been forced to fetch the key to my room from another wing of the house. After a few times of this, she started carrying it around with her, and my plan to stay up a few minutes later at night had been ruined. The proof of my heritage remained, however.

My first impression of Hogwarts wasn't necessarily a good one. While it was indisputably much larger than the mansion I had previously lived in, it seemed drafty and old compared to the place where I had comfortably spent my childhood. Many of the other students had obviously had no training in manners, as they spent the train ride and later the boat ride talking and laughing and trying to push each other into the lake while I sat straight-backed in my seat, speaking only when spoken to and casting a disapproving eye over my classmates.

After we had been sorted, and I had been placed in Slytherin as I had always expected to be, I discovered that dinner would be a loud affair during which people attempted to shove as much food into their mouths at once. Some of the people at the Slytherin table I recognized, having seen them at the various parties my parents held at our mansion. They ate with much more grace than the rest of the room, but still joined in the conversation, sometimes shouting over the piled-high plates to get their points across. I personally didn't join in any conversations that first night, preferring instead to observe the behaviors of those around me. I suppose this set a precedent for the coming years; even when I had acquaintances to eat with I rarely conversed during mealtimes. After all the time I had spent learning how to eat without disgracing the family it never seemed right to have conversations while simultaneously trying to chew my food. My parents rarely spoke at the dinner table.

Whether it was this fact or something that happened later that influenced people I'll never know, but I developed a reputation early for being supercilious. The reputation was rightly earned, as I didn't often make any attempt to engage others in conversation, preferring to wait for them to come to me. They often did, and this was how I made acquaintances. I would never come to consider anyone from those early years as a friend. Friends were not something I was taught to have, although I understood the concept perfectly. I didn't see the necessity of having them, as people were more than happy to talk to me no matter how I treated them.

As the years passed, I worked my way up to the tops of my classes. I was never the most naturally intelligent of the people in the class, but I stayed up late studying more than anyone knew. People would look up to me as one of the smartest students of our year, although I never flaunted my knowledge. I let the teachers call on me, figuring that no one would know the answer and then, as if by magic, I would know it. My mother always said that subtlety was the best way to gain a reputation, and that seeming smart for its own sake was for lesser people. A lady must always be knowledgeable, but never pompous about it to the point where it becomes an annoyance.

When my place at the top of the class was secured, I knew nothing could ruin my reputation. At times I'd treat people badly – I was aware of this. Between my intellect and the beauty that I possessed (which had grown considerably since that first ball when I was ten,) I was in no danger of being abandoned by those I that hurt. They needed me more than I needed them.

Still, there were those who I never got along with. Most people from other houses saw me as the glacial Slytherin bitch, to be avoided at all costs. I was mocked by some of my peers, but I never let it hurt me. Their opinions didn't matter to me – I was still on top where it mattered. The pure-blood community knew my name. Who cared what the mudbloods thought? I certainly didn't.

I never thought then that I could grow to care what the rest of the world thought of me. As it turns out, even glaciers will melt. When they melt completely, they become part of the ocean surrounding them, and are taken by its tides. I can only hope that the tides will take me somewhere better than where I am right now. I have no control over my own life anymore. Maybe it was all an illusion to begin with.

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