AN: Edited 01/14/21

For the first few years of my life, I tried to keep my eyes closed. As soon as I understood that my eyes triggered my mother's first or my father's beer bottle, I stayed out of the way, and if I couldn't, I made sure my eyes were covered, at the very least. Because it was when I lost control that my parents punished me. And their punishments usually left me puffy-eyed for days.

My parents attributed the undesirable secrets in their lives to my existence. I suppose they're right, in a way. During the first year of my life, it seemed that I would turn out as normal as my two eldest siblings, both of whom were "darling little children" whom our entire village doted on. My mother was the mayor and my father was the preacher at the local church, so we were a high-profile family. Which made it even more difficult to hide.

At first, my parents believed the changing color of my eyes to be the natural shift from the dark blue of any baby to the color my eyes were meant to be. However, upon my first birthday, my parents realized that my eyes were not gradually shifting colors, but suddenly altering drastically. On average, my eyes remained a blue-gray color, but they would quickly shift to dark blue when I would cry or a warm brown when I was hungry. But it was when my eyes turned red in anger that my parents took me to a priest to remove the devil from me.

Before they could drown me in Holy Water, Minerva McGonagall knocked on their door to explain everything. It turns out that our next-door neighbors were a Wizarding family and notified the authorities of the suspected presence of magic in the household. As I soon discovered, there was a task force that notified Muggle parents of their children's magical abilities if the magic was too prominent to wait until their eleventh birthday. Considering the entire village was ready to attend my exorcism, the Creevey's decided that the task force was necessary, since my existence could have led to a breach in the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Unfortunately, McGonagall brought the news of not only one witch living under my parents' roof, but two, introducing my sister as a witch, as well.

My parents did not react well to the news. However, they had appearances to uphold, and as long as we never seemed to be different from normal humans and tried our best to keep the devil locked within ourselves, they allowed us to live at home. Part of "keeping the devil locked inside" included personal lessons from McGonagall as I got older on how to keep my eyes from changing colors in public. Another part included moving me, my older sister, Lillian, and her twin, Dustin, since he had shared a womb with the devil-child, up to the attic, where they had kindly given us one bed for the three of us to share. But being shoved into the dusty, cramped attic was better than having to leave its comfort; when we went downstairs, our parents made it clear that we were not welcome.

My dad started drinking after he heard the news. I don't think his brain was able to process the existence of magic when he had preached for so long against it. My mother had always been vindictive, as one must be in order to be a politician, but as long as we remained her "darling little children," she was nice to us. And suddenly, we were no longer "darling little children."

And that's when things got physical.

My mother would punish my when I lost control of my eyes, slapping my and punching my eyes, saying I wasn't allowed to see until I could get them under control. "The poor thing has terrible allergies," she would coo to her followers if I was forced to attend an event. "Her eyes just can't seem to stay open." And she would listen sympathetically as her constituents gave suggestions about different treatments I could try. Apparently, finding allergy medicine for children was a bit more tedious than finding for adults, and I was only five at the time. My mother only punished me, because I was the only one with a noticeable difference - Lillian hadn't started showing her magic, and Dustin's only crime was being her twin.

My father punished all three of us. His fist saw no difference between my ribs or my sister's, but he was always sober enough to keep himself from making our bruises too obvious. Having puffy eyes was one thing, but frequently sporting broken bones and slashed cheeks warranted suspicion, and if my parents cared about one thing, it was appearances.

They had three more kids after us. I assumed they wanted to produce normal spawn, which they succeeded in doing. None of my younger siblings possessed a drop of magic, for which I would always be grateful. They were never wailed on and they each got nice, comfortable rooms on the first floor of the house. It also meant that Lillian, Dustin, and I were expected to attend less events. It made it easier to hide.

And then Lillian got her Hogwarts letter and she was sent off to boarding school, unceremoniously sporting a broken arm, which McGonagall was quick to heal under the impression that she fell at soccer camp. And Lillian was able to escape for nine whole months. I couldn't wait to get my Hogwarts letter so I could escape as well.

When my letter finally came, it was such a relief. Lillian had been talking about it for three summers in a row and I had hoarded her letters, praying that it was as wonderful as she described. She told stories of four Houses (she claimed to be a very proud Slytherin, although all I knew of the house was the importance of the color green) and ghosts and talking portraits and wands and a huge castle. She tried to teach me what she had learned over the years, but it was difficult to teach without using magic. But I read all of the books over the summer and made her buy books for me to entertain myself with throughout the year. I wasn't allowed to go to school - my parents claimed to homeschool me, even though I was forced to entertain myself, looking through the boxes in the attic and waiting for Dustin to come home so that I could help with his homework.

During those years, before I was allowed at Hogwarts, but once I was old enough to crave some sort of intellectual stimulation, I lived for the lessons with McGonagall. She came over once a month to help me learn how to control my emotions and understand the switch my body made that told my eyes to change colors. I had learned how to control my emotions and keep them under control before the shift happened.

I remembered asking if I was going to need to keep my eyes hidden at Hogwarts, a place full of unusual creatures and fantastical magic; surely my eyes would no longer be the center of attention. But McGonagall pursed her lips and said sharply, "You must keep your eyes under control. There are certain people in this world who would be displeased to discover your ability. It is unheard of and especially unlikely in Muggleborns. I fear it would be dangerous if your skills became common knowledge. If I have learned anything from my years as a teacher, it is that students find it difficult to keep secrets from their parents. And parents can be the most dangerous people to confide in." The way she looked into my eyes made me wonder if she knew what was going on in my house. But then she instructed me to attempt to feel and control my anger, and she never spoke of it again.

Once I got my Hogwarts letter, McGonagall took Lillian and me shopping for school supplies in Diagon Alley. Lillian quickly peeled away to meet up with her best friend, Kat McMillan. I couldn't stop looking around; more than once, McGonagall had to squeeze my hand to remind me to mind the changing of my eyes, which kept burning light green in curiosity and excitement. People kept stopping McGonagall on the street, shaking her hand or giving her a quick hug, which she stiffly returned. No one seemed to notice the small girl at her side. And that was fine with me, because even though I was invisible, it still felt like I belonged for the first time in my life.

When we arrived at Ollivander's, our final stop before McGonagall returned us home for two weeks until September first finally arrived, I was so overwhelmed by the magic that surrounded me, I was having trouble keeping my eyes under control. It was as though the magic of the wands was urging my own magic out of me, so I could feel it right beneath my skin. When I opened my eyes, having returned to their usual blue-gray, an ancient man was staring at me intently, a wand in his hand, offered to him by a girl standing behind him. The second I held it in my hand, I felt a rush of warmth up my arm. "Eleven inches," the girl said. "Hazel with two unicorn hairs. Very supple."

The old man looked at me. "A very sensitive wand." His voice was frail, but his eyes pierced through me, as though he could see my secrets through his glance. "It only chooses people who are in touch with their emotions. If you lose control it could have..." His eyes ran over me once more. "...detrimental consequences."

I carefully put the want in the box the girl offered me, breaking my gaze with Mr. Ollivander. I paid for the want with the golden coins McGonagall had given me and quickly exited the store.

When September first finally arrived, I couldn't tell whether my parents were relieved to be rid of two of their devil children or whether they would miss having another two bodies to beat on. My father sent me off with a scrape across my face from a broken beer bottle, and my mother's goodbye gift was a shove down the stairs, resulting in a broken wrist. Lillian only looked a little better, her bruises hidden under her sleeves.

We sat on the curb, waiting in silence for McGonagall to rescue us. And perhaps fix my wrist. But it wasn't McGonagall who stopped in front of our house; it was a lady with flaming red hair, even though she must have been well into her thirties, and kind brown eyes. She got out of her minivan and raised an eyebrow. "What happened to you?" she asked, gently taking my wrist in her hand. She tutted and conjured up a wrap with her want, immediately easing some of the pain. "I've never been very good at healing spells, so this will have to work until you get to school. You should have seen some of my Quidditch injuries - I just made them worse with my healing spells. My husband loves to laugh at those memories now, but at the time, he was terrified." She winked at me. "How did this happen?"

Lillian and I just stared at her before I had the sense to say, "I fell down the stairs."

"I walked into my doorway," Lillian said monotonously.

"Ah," the woman said, narrowing her eyes. "Well, it happens to the best of us. My name is Ginny Potter. Minnie sent me to collect you. She's fallen ill and can't take you to Hogwarts this year, but she wanted me to assure you that she'll visit on Christmas."

Lillian and I nodded and Ginny put our trunks in the car. Lillian and I were shoved into the back. My head dizzied with names and I closed my eyes to keep from revealing my secret. It wasn't an unpleasant ride. Lillian and Albus were in the same year, although she spent much of the ride glancing at James (who she later told me looked so much older and wiser, a fact that was disproven only that night when the entirety of the Hufflepuff house found themselves vomiting up red and gold glitter over their treacle tarts. They got their revenge the next week, when the Gryffindor flags were all changed to Hufflepuff colors and if someone tried to say Gryffindor, they would be speaking in Haikus the rest of the day). Lily was only a year older than me and tried to engage me in conversation, but I kept quiet for most of the ride. I had always preferred to watch on the sidelines. It made it easier to stay in control that way.

When we arrived at the train station, I declined their invitation to sit with them and found an empty compartment, watching the scenery outside the window. Students trickled in and out of the compartment, but no one bothered me, and only a few said hello.

I soon discovered that my sister hadn't exaggerated on a single magical aspect of the castle. We were led to the boats by an actual giant (although my sister explained that he was only half-giant) and the moment I saw the castle, my heart stopped. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, with lights shimmering in the lake's reflection and the ancient architecture.

The sorting was just as my sister had said it would be: long. It felt as though years had passed before my name was finally called and the hat placed upon my head. It felt safe inside the hat, until a voice entered my head. Hmm. I startled. I could suddenly feel the other students staring at me. You are guarding a secret, a secret that contains immense power. You are a very powerful witch, indeed. You could be in Gryffindor, but I think another House would better suit you. Prepare yourself. "Slytherin!" The table on the far left exploded in cheers and the Slytherin crest magically appeared on my robes. I stumbled over to the Slytherin table, unable to keep my eyes from flashing light green in happiness. I sat next to Lillian, who gave me a huge hug, and across from a boy with red hair that was messy in his eyes. He smiled at me briefly, his eyes resting on mine for a bit too long, before turning back to Headmistress Clearwater. For a moment, I feared that he saw my eyes shift, but he didn't look my way for the rest of the evening. I needed to be more careful.

This resolution quickly fell to dust when I met Genie Goyle, a small girl with short brown hair and matching eyes. She was a Slytherin in my year and I quickly latched onto her. We became inseparable and I though I could trust her with anything. But eleven year olds are quite stupid. I soon came to realize that most people were like my parents; my parents weren't the exception to an otherwise nice planet. I told Genie a week before school ended. My mistake meant that McGonagall needed to come in and Obliviate her and everyone she had managed to tell.

From that moment on, I detached myself so that I had more control over my emotions. I needed to distance myself from Genie's words when I told her - "My mommy warned me about people like you! You're a monster! You shouldn't even be allowed at Hogwarts! Don't ever talk to me again!" So, I detached myself.

It worked until September 23rd of my Second Year, when Lydia Zabini, our Quidditch captain, decided to pair me with Hugo Weasley, as we were both selected as Beaters. Hugo was not thrilled with this combination and, by the end of practice, neither was I. By the time our first practice ended, Hugo's eyes were blazing and I was fighting to keep my eyes from turning red. Lydia kept us behind, growling, "Weasley, Waterrose. Work out whatevah you got goin' on. 'Cause I'm not gunna deal with your crap and I'm not afraid of replacing the both of you," before storming off the field.

Hugo and I walked back to the castle in silence. We were halfway back to the Slytherin dorms when I decided to break the silence. Tugging on my robes to make sure that my scars were covered, I extended a hand to him. "Hi. I'm Grace Waterrose."

He scoffed and continued walking toward the dormitory. Rude. I chased after him, trying to keep calm. "Okay. You obviously don't like me, but we're going to need to work together this year. I just thought I might try for a proper introduction."

He continued to walk at a hurried pace but responded, "What, like this? Hugo Weasley, Third Year, Slytherin, obviously. But you already know who I am."

"Yes, but-"

"And I already know who you are: Grace Waterrose, Second Year. The girl who sits beside her friends and twiddles around with a little black book and a muggle pencil instead of talking to other humans. What are you, some kind of diseased toad? You can't get too close to people or they'll catch your ugly?"

My eyes were fighting to turn red and I was barely keeping them under control. I needed to get out, but I couldn't stop myself from wondering, "What are you, a stalker?"

"No, just observant." He came to an abrupt stop, narrowing his blue eyes and stepping towards me. My stomach tensed and I prepared for him to hit me, but he just continued speaking. "I don't trust you. And no one else on the team will either, unless you start talking to us like a normal person. And you'll never be normal."

At that statement, repeated so many times to me by my parents, my eyes turned red with hurt and anger, and my hand wasn't quick enough to cover them. And then, they flashed silver with fear, because that meant that Hugo knew my secret; there was no way he didn't notice the shift of color. Without sparing him another look, I ran off to send an owl to McGonagall, asking her to fix yet another one of my blunders. Control, I repeated to myself. Control, control, control.

"Grace!" Hugo was running after me. He quickly caught up and pulled me into an abandoned corridor. "Hold up."

"Let go of me." He released my arm and I drew it protectively over my stomach. He was too close for me to get away.

"Look, I know your eyes change color. I've known since last year."

I choked on air, feeling my eyes switch colors in a flurry of emotions. There was no point in hiding it now. "How- what-"

"No need to lose your cool, Waterrose. I know I'm attractive and all, but I thought you had more self-respect than that." He grinned at me, but it faded when I didn't give him a reaction. "So, your eyes?"

"They change colors."

He rolled his eyes. "I worked that out for myself, funnily enough." He must have sensed my panic, because he quickly followed with, "I don't think anyone else notices. You're really good at hiding it. I only noticed because you lost control after your sorting and I started paying attention."

"Observant," I recalled.

"Yeah," he grinned.

"You can't tell anyone," I bit out. "I can make you forget."

"No need to get defensive. I won't tell anyone. That's your business." He stood there, staring at me for a moment. I tilted my head. "Just one thing, I was wondering: Why do your eyes change colors? What triggers it?"

I glared at him, wrapping my arms around me. "I don't need to tell you anything."

"No," he agreed, "you don't. But I thought it might be nice if you had someone to talk to. It's hard to keep such a big secret to yourself, I just wanted to help."

"Why? You don't even like me."

"I don't know, Grace."

"Pick one."

"What?"

"Call me 'Grace' or 'Waterrose.' Quit switching them up."

"Fine, Waterrose."

"Fine, Weasley."

"Fine." He smiled. "Look, I'm sorry about being such an arse. It's just that I've been working my arse off to get on the team and you come in a sweep them away with your natural talent."

"You're jealous?" I asked, disbelieving.

"Maybe," he admitted. "I'm going to go now, but if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me."

"In a random corridor?"

He laughed and I offered him a small grin in return. "I'll see you around."

"Emotions," I told him as he turned to go. He faced me again. I took a breath. "They change colors according to my emotions."

"Good to know." And he left.

We never really talked about that conversation - we never really talked again, but we worked as a team, and that was enough. We weren't friends, but he knew my secret and he kept it, so there was something between us. But we didn't explore what that was until my Fifth Year, Hugo's Sixth. And that is where our story really begins.