Disclaimer: I, have never and will never, own Harry Potter, for it has made J.K. Rowling a friggen' millionaire and I doubt she would ever give that up.
Sitting at the end of the House table, the girl known as Brielle sat wistfully revising the day before last.
She'd been wandering Diagon Alley, humming a familiar tune to herself when a sunny yellow sign caught her eye. She couldn't read it clearly until she came within five feet from it. The witty use of syllabic misunderstanding had piqued her interest and she stepped inside the shop. It was unlike any other she'd browsed that day. Even in comparison to Zonko's Joke Shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a cut above.
"You know this really is extraordinary magic!" cried a feminine voice from father into the store. Brielle decided to avoid contact with others who might recognize her. She had tried to keep as low a profile you can get in Hogwarts. As she navigated the maze of enchanted Muggle items, Brielle bumped into something. Or someone.
"Why, hello. I don't believe we've met, I'm George Weasley."
The man had vibrant red hair that clashed horribly with his magenta robes. Momentarily speechless, Brielle just smiled. Only when George raised an eyebrow curiously, did she regain her voice and senses.
"Brielle. I'm a student at Hogwarts." She winced at how easily she'd given away her personal information.
"What year? I'm only asking because some of the items here are not meant for children." A spry smile played at his lips. As if he couldn't see that she was fully developed, only two inches shorter than him.
"I'm no child," Brielle said folding her arms across her chest, "I'm a seventh year."
"Still a kid to me! See ya mate, my other half is calling," George exclaimed in a cheery voice. As he ran off, Brielle contemplated their conversation. Was he always so nice? Had he noticed that the locket she wore had a silver snake on its onyx plating? She hoped not. Too many people disliked her for wearing it, but to Brielle it held special meaning.
The Sorting Hat had decided to place her in Gryffindor, Brielle could only wonder if it had made a mistake. She had cheated, lied, and otherwise deceived people her entire life. Hell, half the life she led was a complete disguise. Many opportunities came around that would have allowed her to shake of the masks and show her true being, her real face. But she had known better, she'd kept hidden and thrived among the shadows. Eventually, she wouldn't have to hide behind her façade. Eventually, she could tell of her heritage. Eventually, she'd be recognized as a great witch.
Eventually, eventually, eventually. She was tired of her own remorseful promises. Especially the ones she knew would never come true. No one would even embrace the cursed, blessed, beautiful, ugly daughter of two greatly opposing Houses.
Shortly after looking around a bit more in the joke shop, Brielle left and went down the Alley to Honeyduke's. There she bought an assortment of sweets to keep her awake during the late nights of studying she'd been assured of. Her bag consisted of things like Sugar Quills, Jelly Slugs, Acid Pops, Blood Lollies, Cockroach Clusters, Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs. The bell rang whimsically as she exited.
Once outside, she let the warm season's breeze guide her to the Shrieking Shack. Her mood completely changed as she stepped over the wire fence that was intended to keep people out. 'There was really no reason to condemn this building,' Brielle thought, ' Sure it scared people that someone screamed Bloody Murder inside every once in awhile, but what does that say of society? That a person would rather label the house as haunted instead of, oh I don't know, maybe going inside and seeing if someone really was dying? But, whatever, it's just how the world works.'
The old rotted steps that led up to the mangled door creaked as Brielle put her weight upon them. She decided that they most likely couldn't hold her for long so she practically sprinted toward the door. Inside, the floor was riddled with feathers and other evidence that birds roosted here at night. Papers, along with an assortment of items, trinkets no one had bothered to retrieve as they fled the house lay about. They scattered endlessly with every breath of wind that rattled the barren, stripped home.
Here, no one would care if she practiced. Odd sounds often came from the shack, why would hers be any different. Brielle opened the black case she'd brought along and took out the silver pieces of her flute. Even if she couldn't use magic freely outside of school, she could still entertain herself. She carefully twisted the pieces together and brought it to her lips. She played a scale easily and went on to play songs that she had learned. For over an hour she practiced, note after note preformed until it was perfect. 'Just as I strive to be.'
Just as carefully as she put it together, Brielle took the flute apart and put it back into its case. As she was locking the case, a moth landed on her head. She reached up to brush it off and quickly realized to her horror…she'd forgotten. She'd forgotten the most important thing in her daily life. And not just on any day, the day she'd walked all around Diagon Alley to shop for her school supplies. The day she'd spoken to someone that might have siblings. Who might go to Hogwarts. Who might know who she is.
But as soon as she'd panicked, she calmed down. Of course they wouldn't know her, no one did. The child of snake and lion was friendless. Always. It didn't matter because she wore a mask at school to. An identity that wasn't hers. It didn't matter who she was today because that's not who she'd be tomorrow. Or at school. She wouldn't forget again. Ever.
Because she never wanted anyone to see the real child. At school she could hide everything because no one bothered to pry. Because no one cared. She'd grown accustomed to the cold, the bitterness. It barely bothered her anymore. It didn't reach her because she'd grown not to care. And not to be cared for.
She'd never forget her mask again because she'd always remember the fear. The fear she felt in herself and the fear she'd felt in her 'friends'. She'd never forget to change. To cover the traits that everyone would recognize. To cover the harsh past, the cursed life. The life of purity and Mud.
She'd never again forget the days that she had gone without her mask. The days she'd show her true face. The days when she had shown everyone what she truly looked like. What she was without her Metamorphmagus, her power as a Metamorphmagi.