I am not popular. I am not special. I am not anyone worth knowing. I am
a wallflower.
You see, I am the person on the sides. I am the one taken for granted, I am no one.
Harry is, well, Harry Potter. Ron is Harry Potter's best friend; Hermione has the same role. Everyone in Gryffindor is popular. I'm not kidding. Everyone. Except me.
Hermione and Harry have tried being nice to me, but being nice to a person doesn't make them your friend. I was not in the Prophecy, I was not given extensive magical powers, and I was not gifted with a vast conception of magical theory. I am an herb magician. Pitiful, isn't it?
We had to take an aptitude test last year. There are five levels, Magician, Wizard/Witch, Enchanter/Enchantress, Sorcerer/Sorceress, and Mage. I am the lowest of the low. Now, the test was not like a muggle one, when they are constantly wrong. This was a magic one, it's inescapable.
Unless, of course, I was the mate of a veela, vampire, or werewolf. Ok, ok, you can stop laughing now. I know it's absurd, forget I mentioned it. When bound to their mates, each half's powers increase by at least fifty percent.
I climb out of the portrait hole and immediately bump into someone. Damn, I keep meaning to get those glasses, I cannot see anything.
"Watch where you're going." The voice sneers. Ah, Malfoy, I should have known.
"I'm sorry." I whisper.
"What's the matter, Longbottom?" he drawls on. I should have known he was going to do this. "I see you're talking as much as your parents are. Tell me, how are they? Still loony as a dodo bird? I bet-"
"Shut up Draco." Wait, that wasn't me. Squinting to my left, where the voice came from, I see a head of chocolate-coloured hair. Who was it?
"Excuse me, Blaise?" Malfoy says in a dangerously incredulous voice.
Blaise? Blaise Zabini is my rescuer?
"You heard me, leave him alone, he didn't do anything." Zabini says reasonably.
I swear it, I shall never understand these damned Slytherins.
Malfoy stalks off, his shoes clicking on the marble floor.
"You shouldn't have done that." I whisper quietly.
"Naw, he's an ass anyway. He deserves to be knocked off his pedestal for a while." His frank response came.
"Oh." I say dumbly, and started walking away.
Once again,a wallflower.
"Wait!" I heard him rush down the hall towards me.
Damned Slytherin, can't he just leave me alone?
"I wanted to talk to you."
"About what?" I say curtly.
"Fine." He snapped back, "but I want to know, are all Gryffindors as shitty as you? Cause I was actually starting to build faith in you guys. My beliefs were misplaced, per usual."
I knew I would cry soon, I always do. I'm not strong. I am weak, ugly, fat, disgusting, and stupid.
"No, I'm the only fat male-bitch in the entirety of Gryffindor. In fact, the only other bitches in the entire school are the two people I have spoken to this day."
And I walked away.
That's all I am, a wallflower. And that's all I'll ever be.
And I'm beginning to think it's my fault.
You see, I am the person on the sides. I am the one taken for granted, I am no one.
Harry is, well, Harry Potter. Ron is Harry Potter's best friend; Hermione has the same role. Everyone in Gryffindor is popular. I'm not kidding. Everyone. Except me.
Hermione and Harry have tried being nice to me, but being nice to a person doesn't make them your friend. I was not in the Prophecy, I was not given extensive magical powers, and I was not gifted with a vast conception of magical theory. I am an herb magician. Pitiful, isn't it?
We had to take an aptitude test last year. There are five levels, Magician, Wizard/Witch, Enchanter/Enchantress, Sorcerer/Sorceress, and Mage. I am the lowest of the low. Now, the test was not like a muggle one, when they are constantly wrong. This was a magic one, it's inescapable.
Unless, of course, I was the mate of a veela, vampire, or werewolf. Ok, ok, you can stop laughing now. I know it's absurd, forget I mentioned it. When bound to their mates, each half's powers increase by at least fifty percent.
I climb out of the portrait hole and immediately bump into someone. Damn, I keep meaning to get those glasses, I cannot see anything.
"Watch where you're going." The voice sneers. Ah, Malfoy, I should have known.
"I'm sorry." I whisper.
"What's the matter, Longbottom?" he drawls on. I should have known he was going to do this. "I see you're talking as much as your parents are. Tell me, how are they? Still loony as a dodo bird? I bet-"
"Shut up Draco." Wait, that wasn't me. Squinting to my left, where the voice came from, I see a head of chocolate-coloured hair. Who was it?
"Excuse me, Blaise?" Malfoy says in a dangerously incredulous voice.
Blaise? Blaise Zabini is my rescuer?
"You heard me, leave him alone, he didn't do anything." Zabini says reasonably.
I swear it, I shall never understand these damned Slytherins.
Malfoy stalks off, his shoes clicking on the marble floor.
"You shouldn't have done that." I whisper quietly.
"Naw, he's an ass anyway. He deserves to be knocked off his pedestal for a while." His frank response came.
"Oh." I say dumbly, and started walking away.
Once again,a wallflower.
"Wait!" I heard him rush down the hall towards me.
Damned Slytherin, can't he just leave me alone?
"I wanted to talk to you."
"About what?" I say curtly.
"Fine." He snapped back, "but I want to know, are all Gryffindors as shitty as you? Cause I was actually starting to build faith in you guys. My beliefs were misplaced, per usual."
I knew I would cry soon, I always do. I'm not strong. I am weak, ugly, fat, disgusting, and stupid.
"No, I'm the only fat male-bitch in the entirety of Gryffindor. In fact, the only other bitches in the entire school are the two people I have spoken to this day."
And I walked away.
That's all I am, a wallflower. And that's all I'll ever be.
And I'm beginning to think it's my fault.