Before I start this story I have an important question: Do we really know Harry Potter? There are suggestions that he has been beaten and starved yet he has none of the long running affects. He may be a little under weight and short but he is still a normal child. He acts against his family, calling them names and making fun of them, still not thinking of the long term affects. He picks fights and shows attitude; something an abused child would never do. Obviously the phenomenon of Harry Potter and his family is written by someone who does not understand children and abuse. Someone who has no experience in that subject. Sometimes people have to deal with the cold, hard truth. Babying things down and sugarcoating things will get you no where. Sometimes you just have to deal with it. In my new story I will show you this! I am all about facts and the cold hard truth. Some of these things I have experience in. Mostly the things Pest will say to Tas. If you are looking for the facts of life, well, this is it.
"Mind of the Metamorphmagus"
Summary: Never the same, always changing, hiding her true form. People say that being a Metamorphmagus is easy; you can do anything with your looks. But try being one. Always changing, hiding what you really look like, pretending to be something your not. What happens if you don't know what the act is anymore?
Rating: T
Characters: OC & OC
Genres: Angst & Romance
Houses: Slytherin & Hufflepuff
Blood Status: Pureblood & Muggle Born
I do not own Harry Potter.
…
Sneering. It's all Slytherins seem to do. It can hurt, or it could change you. Laughing. The Slytherins were laughing when one of the first years tripped on the way to the Gryffindor table. Some made obscene and rude comments on their rivals. Stony gazes, killer glares, webs of lies, acting something you're not, emotion weakness, all qualities of the Slytherin house. They were seemingly perfect; no elbows on the table, no clinking of glasses, no slurps, no burps, and no noises were heard from the table except from the older years telling the new arrivals the rules.
One fourth year sat alone at the end of the table. It had always been this way. Beside her was no man's land. Her name was Anastasia Lynne Flores. Tas for short. She had dull blue hair that hung limply around her face, lifeless brown eyes, and an emotionless, yet pretty face.
Over at the Hufflepuff table two people were watching her. The first was a third year boy who was actually one day over the age limit. He had light brown hair, lively hazel eyes that were filled with laughter and dimples that highlighted his smile. The second was a small first year girl. She was of obviously African decent, petite, and under talkative. Many of the older years were concerned on the constant staring she did to the older Slytherin.
Back at the Slytherin table Tas felt four pairs of eyes on her. She lifted her head slightly so that her hair drew a curtain in front of her face. She looked around the Great Hall spotting the first year Hufflepuff first. Maybe she should smile and wave. Even be a little nic—No! She would never be nice to that…that thing. That stupid bastard child! The one who tore her family apart! Never. She hated her! That pest! No. Not pest. Pest. That is what the bothersome child would be referred to from now on. Stupid halfblood.
She looked over at the third year. Ugh. That stupid Mudblood was looking at her again. Couldn't he just figure out she hated him? Wasn't turning him pink for a month and knocking him off his broom in the Quidditch cup a big enough clue? Maybe she'd have to get some of the older years to bother him again.
The third person who was staring at her was the damned Albus Dumbledore with that damned twinkle in his damned eyes. That man annoyed her. He annoyed her a lot. He even had the nerve to say that he understood her. The last time she was with him she smashed half of his possessions, and he let her! Suggested what to smash next! She wanted to hit him but the old fool had put up a shield around himself. There was nothing to understand! So what if they had something in common! So what if he lost both his parents by the time he was 17! So fucking what! She glared at the old man until he turned his sparkly gaze to someone else.
The fourth and final person staring at her was that new potions professor. Snipe or something of the sort. His black eyes seemed to be trying to penetrate her emotional shield.
Tas abruptly stood up from her table. She had enough! She didn't want pity! She didn't want help! She didn't want love! She didn't even want that damned bastard sister of hers! She wanted her life back! She wanted what should have been! She wanted her family together.
She ran out of the Great Hall, ignoring the callings of the staff and students. She ran the whole way to the dungeons before looking back. Before realizing she was lost. Shit!
She looked around, spotting a room filled with mirrors. She walked in it. It seemed moderately safe. But after stepping inside the door closed.
She spun around, only to see her reflection staring back at her. Around and round she spun, seeing herself. A gaunt figure, hollow cheekbones, due to months of starving herself, dark bags under her eyes, just skin and bones. But something else was showing. Her scars.
Words. Words carved all over her body.
Freak. Failure. Heartless. Death. Hate. Blood. Unloved.
The biggest one…
HELP.
She was spinning around, backing up, only to be confronted with another mirror, another her. But she would never let this side show. She had her powers up, her gift.
She was supposed to have blue hair and dull brown eyes, not long black hair and black eyes! This wasn't supposed to happen!
Her breathing got harder and shallower. Louder. Harder.
She was backing up into another mirror when she spotted the largest one. It showed what should have been. What should have happened! Mom, Dad, her, Melvin, and David! It was what should have been!
Backing up, she bumped into another mirror, this one showing another persona she used. Purple hair, tan skin, blue eyes. Another persona was looking at her from another mirror. Red hair, green eyes, pale skin.
Another one. Another girl. Another identity.
Who was she? She couldn't remember what she really looked like anymore.
What was she? How could it be possible for her to be all these people? Was she a monster?
All of the girls opened their mouths, "Who are you? Is everything an act?"
She didn't know. She felt sick.
She had to get out!
The world was spinning…
The ground was getting closer…
She fell into the darkness; the last thing she heard was her own scream and the chants of, "What's an act?"
The problem was…
She didn't know.
…
How was that?
I hope it was angsty enough. I was trying, though I think I will have even angstyer stuff later on. By the way, angsty and angstyer aren't words! :)
I am listening to Nothing by The Script
O.o Livi Lou o.O