Disclaimer: I don't own!
Rating: K+
Summary: Does it need one?
Mine Were Just Hidden
By: Shulamit
I remember my first day on the Hogwarts Express. I was so ecstatic, my dream was coming true. I would finally have a place where I truly belonged. Little did I know that I was just walking from one nightmare into another, different one, in a different form.
I remember growing up, hearing the story of the Downfall of the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I remember imagining the hero to be just like princes in all the fairy tales, gallant and strong, always rescuing the princess, the damsel in distress. It was only later that I found out why the stories never went past 'riding into the sunset'. It was because after the sunset come the dark, a dark that you can't be pulled out of.
I remember seeing him for the first time. I had heard up and down the train that he was here; the Hero himself was on his way to Hogwarts! For some reason it had never really come to me that we were in the same year, that we might even placed in the same house. I guess I really did think of him as a fairy tale. I should have thought of him as a horror story instead.
I remember my sorting. I was so scared to go up to be sorted. My name was called and I walked up to the hat. I had wanted to go into Gryffindor because I was sure that was where he would go since he must have be so brave to defeat the darkest wizard of our time! But no, I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor. The hat told me that I didn't belong there, that it didn't match my nature. It placed me in Hufflepuff instead. To make things worse, he was called to the hat next. I hadn't even reach my seat at my new house table before everyone forgot about me to focus on him…but I had at least thought my own house would greet me with applause as it did to the others but no. It was his turn now. Mine had ended before it had begun.
I remember my first week. Being a first year, a Hufflepuff first year, I didn't draw much attention. I went to classes, meals, and bed like everyone else. I so badly wanted a friend but the other girls, they were already friends and who needed an oddball like me? I have heard it before, three is an odd number. Three is a crowd.
I remember my first month. I remember the excitement; he had been chosen to be a seeker on the team, the youngest player in a century. I also remember the biting letter from Mother and Father, three weeks later. Again I had disappointed them. Again, I was a mistake.
I remember my first year. I remember Gryffindor winning because of his escapades, because he had again saved us all. I also remember going for help with studying for the holiday's homework to my Head of House. I remember being brushed away because of an incident with Devil's Snare and three students. I remember never getting that help.
I remember the summer. I remember having to find my own way home from the station. Mother was out with her book club, discussing Gilderoy Lockheart's latest book. Father was at the ministry as usual. I hadn't been deemed worthy enough to have a parent come and collect me. After all, I wasn't a Gryffindor. I was only a younger daughter, and a Hufflepuff at that. I remember crying my way through the long holiday.
I remember my 12th birthday. I remember a card, the same card as last year. My parents had paid a neighbor to go out and buy one for me from Diagon Alley. I remember being alone with Nana in the nursery. My parents out as usual. I remember the candles. There were only 11 of them. My parents had only paid the neighbor to get 11 candles. My parents had forgotten my age. I remember waiting up all night for them to come home. I remember Father coming in drunk. I remember Mother crying. I remember fists. I remember screams. I remember scars.
I remember my second year. I remember terror. I remember hisses in the corners. Students turned to stone. Everyone was scared, everyone suspected him. He was evil, they said. He was getting revenge for the pictures, others whispered. I don't know what I believed. I was still recovering from Father during the Christmas holiday. A holiday where many bottles had been given out as gifts. A holiday where pain was abundant.
I remember the end of term. He again had saved us. The chamber again was closed, the monster gone. For everyone, for everyone but me. My monster wasn't defeated. My monster was my Father. The one who should have been protecting me. The one that should have been saving me.
I remember my 3rd year as a blur. My DADA teacher was so concerned about his effect towards the dementors, my side effects were overlooked. Again. Who were noticed and care about a Hufflepuff girl with stringy, limp brown hair and dulled blue eyes, to short to see the board if she said more than two rows back? No one.
I remember my fourth year. That was the year of the Tournament. That was the year of You-Know-Who's return. People noticed me at the end of the year. They wanted to know why I wasn't scared and screaming with the others. They wanted to know if I was evil too since I wasn't crying in fear.
Truthfully, Voldemort doesn't scare me. I am not scared to say his name, to utter it when I am alone. What can he truthfully do? Kill? Inflict fear. Some how death doesn't scare me when I have nothing to live for. As for pain? I have felt it before. It hurts, yes, but it passes. What more can he truthfully do to me? Why fear him, what is the chance of him coming after insignificant me? I have to live with my Father, my own personal Dark Lord. I have no time to fear the real one.
Here I write this letter to you. I have nothing else to remember. My life is down on this paper, for all to see. I know that I will have none to remember me, so if I don't tell you, how will you know? I will not survive my pre-5th year summer holiday. Whether it be by my Father's hand or mine does not matter. You will get this letter no matter what. I have spelled it to be sent to you at the moment of my passing. I hope you get it in peace.
People may think that I will have sent this to get attention, to make you feel guilt and shame. Those people don't know what it feels like. What it feels to like to rather die then suffer anymore. That death is sometimes a better fate then to live with such pain and loneliness. What it is like to live with a broken heart, with no chance of it mending.
I am writing this letter, not so you feel guilt. Just so you make sure that this time history won't repeat itself. That you don't let another pass through your gates, gates of hope, only to have that hope be extinguished inside of them.
They say hindsight is 20-20. Use it; don't let it pass you by. Find one who can still be saved and save them. I am to far gone, but there are others. My soul will be leaving soon, I can feel it in my gut. But now do you see? Harry wasn't the only one with scars. Mine were just hidden.
Sally-Anne Perks
6-23-94
A/N: Hi! This idea also refused to leave me alone. Actually, I originally planned it to be much much different. But I love this fic anyway. I chose Sally-Anne Perks because she disappears after her sorting-you don't even find out what house she is in! So, read, review, and enjoy!!!
R&R
Shulamit