Poetry & Prose

A/N: Despite what your own eyes tell you, this isn't my first story. Not even my first Harry Potter fiction. Read my profile thing if you really feel the need to find out why. Of course, I will love you forever if you review, even if it just to say that "Man, this blows". Appreciate it! So I'll leave you to your reading, even though I'm quite possibly the only person who ever reads the authors note...

Updated A/N: To anyone that may have read this story before (the very few), you'll notice a very obvious change in Freya… She was just too serious and well, introspective for me. (Can anyone say emo??) So I decided to ah... spice her up a bit. (Evil grin) Don't worry; she'll still have her illicit love affair. Things will simply go… differently for the poor bloke involved. Mwahaha.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, obviously. J.K. Rowling owns everything in the entire world. If you don't know that, well I'm sorry. You probably shouldn't be reading this then. Oh, wait. I own Freya. And the poetry, unless I say otherwise. I don't own Milton, Keats or any other lovely poetry I credit. Hence the credit. Obviously.

Prolouge

In her own opinion, she was unremarkable. At least, at Hogwarts she was, which was a bit a of a paradox. Yet, she pasted though 6 years as a rather unremarkable Gryffindor, eclipsed by the celebrities of her year, the famed Marauders, among them. Not that she was antisocial, or weird, because that would establish an identity of some sort. She was known as "that girl" and "whatserface" most of the time. While her life at her Hogwarts was bland in that magical boarding school sort of way, it was mostly for lack of trying… Why should she make an effort? It wasn't as though she cared particularly.

Seventh year would be different, though, she had no doubt. One couldn't maintain anonymity forever. The amount of time she had already managed it was no mean feat, carefully cultivated and nurtured. Now it was going to come crashing down for no more particular reason than she was bored. What kind of person flipped their entire existence around because they were bored? Well, someone who had absolutely nothing better to do.

But all that was all going to change...

Freya sighed and looked out the window toward the approaching village. For the fifty billionth time, she checked her purse. Make up bag, gum, pencil and pen, notebook, Yeats, Shakespeare... She took the smooth, slim volumes out of her purse, running her fingers over the ornate gilding on the sonnets, the silvery script on Yeats. Poetry. It had made the past six years worth coming, even if it was by her own choice that she was alone. She reached into her bag and pulled out Milton. She studied the black book, and opened it up to a page. She couldn't seem to focus on the pages.

What makes you so sure you really are going to be different this year?

With that thought in her head, there was no way that she would be able to concentrate. She closed the book without looking at the pages. Restless and distracted, she pulled a mirror out of her purse. Examining the reflection in her mirror, she sighed. Brown hair, shoulder length with long, retro style fringe. Fair skin to the point of being translucent. Grey eyes, round and framed with fringy lashes. She shifted, changing her eye color to deep emerald green. Better. It was another reason she was unremarkable. She chose to be. She preferred anonymity to celebrity. After all, as a Metamorphmagus, she could look like anything. But changing most things was a pain. And plus, she didn't really want people to know. Well, she hadn't wanted people to know. She supposed this year, she'd reveal herself a little bit more.

"Miss..." The witch who ran the food cart was looking at her queerly.

Freya looked up, surprised to see a nearly empty train.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Thank you."

Freya gathered her things, and rushed off the train. She rushed to get her trunk and nag off the train. Good Year, she thought as she walked up the gangway. This will be a good year. She grinned to herself. Of course it will be!

By the time she had reached school, gone to the feast, and unpacked, Freya was exhausted. But she wanted to do a little writing before she slept. She pulled out her notebook and a pencil, all set for a rant, or maybe a little poetry. Anything really. Pulling from her bookshelf Shakespeare's sonnets, she thumbed through the pages for inspiration. She really needed some new material. She had practically memorized the books she had. Maybe some Edgar Allen Poe from her dad. Or she could take out the little volume of anonymous poems from the school library. She'd look it up tomorrow, since classes didn't start until Monday anyway. But for now, she just scribbled whatever came to mind and then a short while later shut the book. She know it wasn't a good start to her year, but hey, she was really too tired to care. She'd start tomorrow maybe, or yawn… soon enough.

"Honestly, it might do some good to go down to the common rooms for once. You know, mix it up. Shock herself. She won't spontaneously combust, as far as I know."

"You never know... Are we even sure she talks?"

"I know, right?"

"You know, she's probably awake and can hear you, it wouldn't kill you to be nice to her. It's not like she's ever been weird or mean to anyone. She's just… quiet. She seems normal enough to me."

"Right, Lily… You know you would fall off your chair too, if she spoke to you."

Freya listened to the chatter of her roommates as they got ready for bed. She knew they weren't trying to be cruel, and she knew this was her own fault. She would simply have to work hard to have them see she was no weirdo, no crazy girl. And maybe even a tad normal.

Well, normal enough for a born and breed witch, that is.

Updated A/N: Right, so I am way, way, way too impatient to wait to post this until the rest of the rewriting is done, so… Up it goes! Anyway, the rest of the story is going to be in first person, since I think it will work better for the character. At this rate, Freya is a mystery even to me. I need to get inside her head to work this plot right. (Vaguely inspired by the lovely fic "Diary of a Siriusly Skewed Individual" by First of the Geeks- It's fantastic, you must go look! But seeing as she did so wonderfully in first person, I think it's a perfect way to spice Freya up.

Yours truly,

Must be Juliet