A/N: We are all capable of evil and some part of every one of us is dark, whether we realize it or not. I wrote this fic to express those beliefs. I didn't have any particular Hufflepuff in mind. Please review as I am fond of this particular piece of writing and would like feedback.

Evil

I stand silently with my cohorts, already masked face shrouded in darkness.

We wait.

I am identical to all the others. Identical on the surface. Identical in actions. Maybe not underneath. But that is not what counts here. We are identical. Our differences do not matter. We are united.

I am certainly different then all of the rest.

All of those who surround me attended Hogwarts. I am not certain, but I am nearly sure that they all were a part of Slytherin. The house of ambition, of cunning. The house of power. Those who reside under the flag of Slytherin disregard Ravenclaw, combat Gryffindor, and mock Hufflepuff.

That is what the Hufflepuff group is good for. They are to be mocked, used for their kindness, disrespected by those who know that the Hufflepuff will not fight back.

The Gryffindors are not generally part of this group. They are kind to their inferiors. And that is what the Hufflepuffs are. Inferiors. Not capable of greatness, not capable of dazzling intelligence. Not capable of evil.

That's what they all say.

They were wrong.

I am capable of evil.

I stand with my fellow death eaters and we wait for our master.

The wind shifts. It ripples through my robes. Our robes. The branches of the trees move, their leaves singing a lonely, cold song. A cloud crosses before the moon. It grows colder.

We are still silent.

No one understands. Not even the most intelligent comprehend the fact that people change. The sorting is a bad idea; they sort us into categories of people when we are eleven. Then they expect us to grow within that category, never be anything different. Well, when things happen, people change.

My father died.

I was sent to live with my mother. She is different from my father. Very strict. Very unforgiving. Under her influence, I grew outside of my category. The summer that I went to live with my mother, I changed. I went back to school changed. They noticed. They asked me if everything was all right at home. I said yes. Of course. Why wouldn't it be?

Even when I was at Hogwarts, my mother was a constant factor in my life. Always pressuring for higher marks, always taunting me about my kindness, my qualities that led to easy embarrassment.

She thought that I was weak.

I didn't want to listen to her. But I had to. She was always there. I was afraid not to listen.

My marks went up. My mannerisms changed. They noticed. They told me that they were disturbed by the behavior I was presenting.

I told them where to shove it.

They knew something was wrong then.

They knew that by then I was merely an impostor in the Hufflepuff house.

Something in the air changes. He is near. We can all feel it, and we tense. He is my master; our master. Quick to punish when we err, quick to reward when we serve him well.

Although my mother was so very cold, she was a supporter of light magic and everything that Albus Dumbledore represented – represents.

As my kindness diminished, my anger towards her strengthened. This was my explosion, my final response. I joined the dark side as a taunt to her, a mockery of her goodness.

She knows it.

When I stand with the Dark Lord, I am stronger. We are all stronger. I am not afraid of her now. She can no longer change me.

I am what I am.

Our master arrives.