She had always been different from other children. She scorned their games, preferring to read in a quiet, shadowed corner. Though her mother dressed her is pink designer labels, she would trade them all for simple black.
Her parents had never noticed the gleam in her eyes when they shut off the light allowing the dark to smother her, never thought it strange that she reveled in thunder and yipped with glee when lightning broke the unmoving blackness.
But she knew she was different, like a changeling, child to fey but placed among humans to play her game. She knew she was adopted, she saw her true self in clear waters, and when she got her Hogwarts letter it only strengthened her beliefs, the shadows who whispered to her every day told her secrets, told her forgotten things. They told her the truth because they could do no different, they could not lie to their mistress.
Every year during her trip to Diagon alley she would slip away to where the shadows called to her. Spend most of her exceptional amounts of money on books and jewelry who's shadows called to her, cried out her name. The scents of rot, decay and death comforting her preparing for another year of the façade.