Note: Hiya, people! :) This is just something that had popped in my head a week ago and I don't know, I wrote it down and I'll see where it goes! I might continue, I might not. I don't know. You tell me.

In the meantime, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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Chapter 1

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Neville Longbottom

When I first thought of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I was filled with a sense of intimidation mixed with a sense of ridiculous awe. Grandma always talked about it: nailed it in my head since I was aware enough of my surroundings that I was to go and study in the school.

Of course, when I heard that, I panicked. I wasn't exactly the brightest boy and I was awkward enough around the people in society. I wasn't looking forward to it, but at the same time, I was extremely curious.

And so, when I reached the age of eleven, I bid goodbye to my grandma on Platform 93/4 and boarded the Hogwarts Express to start this new 'adventure' in my life.

Knowing me and my luck, the minute I stepped into the train, I lost my toad: Trevor. Bloody typical if you ask me. I was not the luckiest. I began searching in panic around the train for my toad.

It was also the time that I had gained my first friend, Hermione Granger.

Hermione had been so nice and considerate to me and offered to help me in finding my toad. I was very grateful to her. She didn't view me as an outsider—the geek. Although, after I got to know her better, her IQ trespassed all of our IQs—she was the cleverest. But it amazed me, because even though she was smart, she never looked at me as an inferior. But treated me as an equal.

I have to admit: Hermione is a huge part in where I stand today.

But anyway...

When we all boarded the magical boats that led to the huge castle that was Hogwarts, the sense of intimidation filled me again. The place was so huge, majestic and just—out of league. And I was so small, afraid, and invisible.

Did I even deserve to be at such a place?

I was intent to prove myself, make my parents and grandma proud, but that didn't help the small, doubtful spot in my heart. But I knew I had to overcome it if I wanted to prove myself. I had to be confident in what I have and just give my best.

I had to try.

And after seven years of living, having adventures, and studying in this castle, I have come to a very stunning realization.

Hogwarts, in all of its glory, fame, and intimidation, was simply the stage—the theatre. And the actors were us—the students. And each and every one of us was playing a role and wearing a mask.

I have come to realize that if Hogwarts' ancient walls could talk, they would reveal a lot of stories that no one had ever noticed—no matter how many times they have graced the hallways and corridors. The walls were witnesses of stories that happened before we were even born. Stories that had happened with every generation Hogwarts had ever taught.

I bet all the stories that the walls concealed weren't happy ones. I know that some stories ended with sorrow, regret, loss, and maybe even tragedies. And even if there was a happy story, I am sure the happiness was at the cost of another's happiness. In a way, Hogwarts was exactly like a Shakespearean play.

I know that it seems silly to compare it that way, but it is very true in a way.

In Shakespeare's plays, everyone wore a mask to conceal what they feel. And every single student in Hogwarts does the same.

Let's take me, Neville Longbottom, as the first example.

As I have stated before, I am not the luckiest, nor the cleverest. Actually, when I started at Hogwarts, I was completely hopeless. Some people, like Draco Malfoy, found that hopelessness amusing, and being a bully, picked on me a lot. Of course, I never allowed the things he or anyone spoke to get under my skin.

But sometimes, it did hurt.

I was brave—after all, I wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. I had a brain even though it wasn't as sharp as Hermione's. But, you see, I found it easier to slip on the mask of obliviousness. With time, I blended into the background, and people got used to me just being there, and not participating. I was just there, watching and listening.

Just there...

What they did not know, though, was that watching and listening has opened up my eyes on things—small and big things—that they usually allowed to slip right under their nose. It was rather amusing, as it was very obvious to me, but so very invisible to them.

On second thought, it was obvious to anyone with two eyes, two ears, and a brain. And really, I must have all those to notice them. So, that means that I wasn't hopeless in the end, right?

Oh, well...

Those small things confirmed my theory that Hogwarts was a Shakespearean play. Everyone around me smiled, laughed, studied, goofed off, played Quidditch, went on Hogsmeade trips and moaned and complained loudly about homework. It was the typical everyday school scenery.

But there were things going on with every single one of us. We were just very good in placing the masks on our faces and keeping the things that bothered us or made us afraid behind the masks.

Sometimes, I wonder, why do people need masks?

I came up with two conclusions.

Conclusion Number One: People wear masks to make themselves more appealing in the others' eyes. Small faults that seem to them to be big and hideous are hidden and tucked careful under the mask they drew up before their face. The faults might not even be that bad, but people want to be their best for everyone.

My honest opinion: you should be yourself and not try to be someone else. I would rather be hated for who I am than to be loved for who I am not.

Conclusion Number Two: People wear masks to protect themselves. They build this wall of glass, of concrete, of bricks, and of velvet to protect their hearts from breaking. Those masks push the people around them away, people the masks know will hurt their wearer. I think that my mask is the protection mask. Or maybe, it's just a mask—without any meaning.

After all, I'm not trying to look good in people's eyes. They can see me as they want; I am proud of who I am and what I do. But, I do admit, most of the reason I wear a mask is to protect myself, but only on occasions.

Like in fourth year...

But as I drew those two conclusions, I was also struck by a rather, very true thought.

The funny thing about masks is: you wear them for so long and suddenly, you realize you can't take them off anymore. You cannot function without them. You feel strange without them.

Masks protect and reflect something that we are not—they are disguises.

Does that mean that all we live in is simply a huge lie?

It hurts to think of it that way. But keeping up the masks hurt even more.

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Note: So, what do you think? Should I continue? Should I delete it? Please, review. Your opinion matters the most! :)

Take care till next time...