CHAPTER 1
Okay, this is the Rewrite of Will of the Willow. After a while I will take the other one down. I was going to wait until I had more chapters done before I posted, but I decided that maybe reviews would egg me to continue this story so I don't get discouraged. To those who were reading it before, sorry! I hope you'll like this version better. And to new readers, I hope you like this story, because I put my heart into it, and I am determined to complete it. I hope my writing has improved =) Enjoy!
This song's for everyone like me
Everyone not afraid to stand alone
And lonely
Can you identify with me?
-Everyone Like Me by Thousand Foot Krutch
First impressions are strange things. Sometimes they're right, and sometimes they're terribly wrong. Most of the time, however, your first impression is somewhere in between right and wrong. I've learned that if you truly wish to find the value of a friend, you must stick with him through everything life throws your way.
Now, my first impression of a certain blonde-haired boy-no, wizard- was that he was the most intolerable, self absorbed, entitled git I had ever laid eyes on. Draco Malfoy was a rude, pushy, spoiled brat who was way too used to getting everything he wanted. And I wasn't wrong in my assumption. Not entirely, anyway. But as we grew older, his true colours started to shine.
It's so strange how deceiving first impressions can be. Someone that you would never think could make an impact on your life somehow ends up being your life.
My first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was pretty uneventful. Well, as uneventful as attending a wizarding school can be. I am also comparing it to the next six years, and it pales in comparison in the field of eventfulness. What I will remember most about my first year is sitting in my tiny little room at the orphanage I grew up in with Albus Dumbledore as he explained to me that I was a witch. I will never forget Dumbledore… He was a great wizard, and an even greater man.
My first year at school was spent mainly attempting to come to terms with my new life, avoiding Slytherins, and stalking Harry Potter and his friends. I was so certain that if one of them just took the time to notice me, I could be their friend, too.
Naturally, that never happened. They were in Gryffindor, and I was in Hufflepuff. Besides having a couple of classes together, I didn't see them much. Also, I was painfully shy. Every time someone spoke to me, I mumbled a reply and then blushed like crazy. I didn't make a single friend that year. Not one. I was terribly lonely.
Although I didn't see much of the "Golden Trio," as they were soon nicknamed, I did see a bit of Draco Malfoy. I kept bumping into him. I didn't give it much thought, however, because the Hufflepuff common room was in the basement, and not far from the Slytherin common room which resided in the dungeons; bumping into Slytherins was to be expected. Most Slytherins just sneered at the Hufflepuffs, and the first years learned to just ignore them like the older students did. It wasn't until the following summer that Draco Malfoy would completely invade my life and change it. However, if it was changed for good or bad is up for debate.
My story really starts the day before I was to get on the Hogwarts Express and start my second year. I was in Diagon Alley buying my school supplies. The majority of the books on the list were by a wizard named Gilderoy Lockhart, and they were bloody expensive. I about cried when I handed over almost all of my remaining funds. It left me with just enough money to buy something sweet to munch on. That was the last of the money my mother left me when I was abandoned at the front step of the orphanage. The only reason the headmistress didn't take it all was because she had thought it was fake, considering she had never seen wizard's money before.
I let out a loud sigh, realizing I would need a job to pay for next year's supplies. I could get a job that day and promise to work holidays, or I could wait until the next summer to hunt for a job. Not one to procrastinate, I asked around Diagon Alley for a job, but no one wanted to hire an eleven-year-old. The last rejection brought me to Gringotts Bank where I decided to rest. I slumped on the steps with my face in my hands and groaned. I looked up and a sign leading to a dark alley caught my eye… It intersected Diagon Alley and a dark feeling crept from it like tendrils of smoke. I couldn't look away, somehow drawn to the dark street by an invisible force.
"Knockturn Alley?" I muttered to myself. I had never noticed it before. The wood of the sign was old and splintered, and the paint was faded and peeling, making the words barely legible.
Curious, I stood up on tired legs and wandered in. For everything that Diagon Alley was, Knockturn Alley was the opposite. It was dark, damp, empty. Chills ran down my spine. I looked back at Diagon alley, trying to make a decision. The light from the street shone like a beacon of hope, begging me to turn back.
But something was pulling me down the dark path instead. I turned back around and walked into Knockturn Alley with unsure steps, feeling as if I was somehow sealing my fate.