The teachers think they know me. The students think they know me. But they don't know me, they know my parents. They know the Boy Who Lived. They don't know Lily Potter.
They never will. My parents get reports of me being a, "Well rounded young lady" "She keeps to herself." "She is a hard worker." "She turns in all her work." A good egg. That's who I am to them.
No one sees me. They look at me and see my father's face. My mother's eyes, her freckles. No one sees Lily Potter. Not evan my name is my own.
I look in the mirror. My hair is long, red and wavey. her hair. I dig around in my bag, I pull out scissors and begin to cut it off.
It's chin length now. I still look like her. I think. The door to the empty class room is locked. No one would come in anyway.
I skipped transfiguration. I told them I was ill. Maybe I am ill. Maybe that's why I feel like this.
I hate that I'm not like James, confident, unafraid, uncaring, and attractive. He makes being cool seem so easy, always knows what to say, but he doesn't rub it in your face. I hate that he is kind under his joking manner, and because of that I can't hate him.
I hate that I'm not like Al, friendly and open. A good guy, a loyal sort of friend. Why can't I be like them? Why can't anyone see me?
I sit on the cold, dusty floor. I want to rip my hair out, I want to make them notice me. What can I do? Nothing. That's what.
So I sit on the hard tiles and cry, and not notice a boy at the door, or hear the soft click of the unlocking charm. I don't see him coming, I don't expect him to know I would come here. I didn't think he saw me either.
But he did. He might just be the first person to ever noticed me. Ever.
"You crying because you cut off your hair?" He asks. "No." I respond a little to forcefully. "Oh." He rubs the back of his neck. "Are you okay though?"
I would be a liar if I said yes. "Yes." I reply, getting to my feet and smoothing out my Gryffindor robs. I guess I'm a liar. My red hair lies limply all around the mirror above the sink in the corner of the class room.
He's blonde, tall, and Slytherin. It's cold in here. I see goose flesh rise on his arms. I am suddenly embarrassed, this boy saw me crying in a corner about how I feel invisible. "Sorry." I mutter after an awkward pause.
I gather my things and try to push passed him, holding my head down so he hopefully won't see the blush creeping up my neck and catches me with a slender arm. "Wait." He says.
I don't look at him. My heart starts beating rapidly. "Let me go." I say, in a voice that's so steady it surprises me. He lets go, but for some reason I don't move. I'm waiting. For what, I don't know.
"You don't need to tell me what all that back there was about, but if you need some one to sit by during lunch..." I walk away without looking at him, or saying a word.
I never want to see him again! I think. But it's not true. It might be the biggest lie I've ever told myself.
