A/N: Wow! So I totally didn't realize that this chapter had gotten messed up so badly!! I'm sorry!!! It's fixed now!!!

Chapter Four: Sam

A/N: This chapter is just an overview of the past 6 years. Everything that happens is from Sam's POV. This chapter has the instances that Sam talks about in the chapter two.

Year One:

I was a quiet girl. I'd never really talked much and I didn't like to. I spent most of my time reading or studying. It was my passion and I loved learning new things. This passion was fueled by my parents who had a lovely library filled with books about everything in our home. It inspired me!

I was astounded to be going to Hogwarts. I'd read history books that mentioned the great schools of magic. I prayed to go there one day. My prayers were answered when I got that wonderful letter saying I'd been accepted.

It was my first week and I'd been sitting at the Ravenclaw table, by myself. But I wasn't alone, really. I was reading a fascinating book about quidditch, which was my favorite sport, even though I'd never have the guts to play. I felt two pairs of eyes staring at me and looked up. I had been right, two red-headed boys were looking at me. I looked back at my book, thinking they hadn't really been looking at me.

After a few weeks, things settled down. I was in double Transfiguration with the wondrous Professor McGonagall and was taking notes like mad. I wanted to remember everything she said. It all sounded so poetic as she said it. I was that entranced with learning.

I felt a single pair of eye on me, but didn't look around me. I didn't have the time. Professor McGonagall was speaking too quickly. I was surely going to get an O on my final exams in her class. Especially with all the notes I'd be taking.

One day, while I was walking to Charms, I felt something smash into my back. Cold liquid covered my back and it smelled awful. I turned around, furious at the person, but my anger subsided because no one was there. I figured it had just been Peeves. I hoped it wasn't serious, but went to the Hospital Wing anyway. I was fearful of what Peeves could have done to the liquid which now felt more like slim.

Madame Pomfrey said it was probably nothing to worry about. So I didn't worry. I had to get rid of my shirt though. It was soiled and the pungent smell wouldn't leave. I had really liked that shirt. Well, about a week later I had horrible back pains and it felt like something was growing from out of my back. I went to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey made me stay there. It got worse. I grew a third arm!

I spent the entire year in the Hospital Wing. Partly because the bones took forever to dissipate and for my skin to go back to normal, but mainly because I was so embarrassed! A third arm?! Who gets a third arm?!

Year Two:

The next year I was known as the 'three armed girl'. It hurt my feelings and my letters home were tear stained and full of my sorrows and troubles. My parents did all they could to help me out, but they made it worse for me. Much worse.

I had to get glasses. It was embarrassing beyond belief. The glasses were enormous and covered most of my face. It was terrible for me! I went from the 'three armed girl' to 'the three armed girl with monster glasses'. I would silently cry myself to sleep because of it.

The teasing got even more worse when someone started hexing my glasses to make scratches randomly. So I'd be sitting in class, taking my plethora of notes when scratches would just appear on my glasses. It got to the point that I'd have to charm my quill to take my notes while I fixed my glasses. Then they started chipping. I had to fix them so often, that my professors would tell me to be quiet. I lost my house 57 points that month. That didn't help me or my situation at all.

One day, while I was walking down a corridor, I was tripped. I had been reading a very interesting book and wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Just as I passed by the Weasley twins, I felt something hit my legs. I fell forward, my glasses went flying and skidded to a stop twelve feet away. I got to my knees and started feeling around for them. I heard a crunching sound and my hopes dropped.

I finally found my glasses and put them on. I noticed the break and fixed them. I was close to tears at this point. I searched for my scattered books and quills as the corridors filled with students on their way to class. No one helped me, just laughed at me as they passed.

I never read as I walked since then. I had a feeling about who'd caused my fall, but I wouldn't act on it. I was the ugly, unnoticed, non-existent being who happened to be a witch. After that day, I wasn't bothered by anyone further. I was just made fun of. But I grew out of that too.

Year Three:

That summer was one of the worst for me! Not only was I teased relentlessly at school, but my own brother had started it at home. He had thought of the horrible idea to dye my hair different shades of different colors. He did it while I was sleeping and I never figured out a way to undo it! I dreaded going back to school. I knew the Weasley twins would be the first to notice. They'd be the loudest of the groups that mocked me.

I had skated by unnoticed for the first two months of school. My hair was really hard to conceal, but I managed by putting it in a bun. It exposed my glasses but made my hair just look like a dark brown or even black.

One day I was running late. I had forgotten to put my hair up into a bun. I walked down the hall, very self-conscious about my hair. To my horror, the loudest of all the people who insulted me were walking in my direction.

"Nice hair," one of the twins said.

"Nice glasses," the other said.

I looked up at them then back at the ground. I wanted them to burn in hell for what they've begun doing. Others began joining in. Everyone thought the Weasley twins were funny and amazing. I thought they were bullies, and one day I'd get even. Everyone was laughing at me.

The rest of the school year was pretty much like that. Everyone laughed at me. It got to the point where I stopped hearing it. They still did it, but I never acknowledged it. It deeply wounded me. I was fully aware that I looked horrible. They all just took it a step further and made my life worse. It was unbearable.

I lived through it. My mom kept telling me over and over, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. And that it did. I used my torment to make plans. I just hoped everything would get better.

Year Four:

To my utmost horror, my hair wouldn't grow out. So I had to cut it. I had to cut it all! My brother insulted me and made jokes at my expense. I cried a lot.

It didn't get any better at school. It got worse. The Weasley twins had out done themselves. Everyone now called me 'baldy'. It was horrible. I focused on my work. I focused on anything other than them. I soon learned to block out their comments. I just kept my head down and kept walking.

The other kids didn't hesitate in making fun of me. I would walk down the corridors and get comments like this, "Hey baldy, what's wrong with your glasses?". Or "Where'd your hair go, four eyes?"

I can tell you now. Kids are mean and relentless and I am sick of it. I wanted to scream a them. But I had no will to. I was bent on revenge, but I that would only make me just as low as them. I can rise above it. I'm certain I can. I know I can and I will.

The end of the year drew closer and my hair hadn't gotten any longer. My hopes of normalcy had diminished with my self-esteem. I soon began thinking that I was worthless. When people said mean things, tears would drop my from eyes. If only I could be like the courageous, popular heroes in my books. If only if only.

I began crying myself to sleep again. I'd gotten over that. But it had started again. I think it started with the comments about me being bald. It was heart breaking and my letters to home became more frequent. I began keeping a journal of my day's torture. It helped me forget about things that had happened that day so I could read in peace. I would enter the world of someone else's imagination and escape from my reality.

One boy randomly called out to me as I walked down the corridor, "Hey, everyone! Baldy's done from three armed girl to four eyes to freak to baldy! Hilarious transformation eh?"

This was the turning point. I was going to do something. He made me think about things. I needed to fix myself. I needed to work on being a better me. That would start this summer.

Year Five:

I'd spent the summer looking for wigs. I wasn't going to school bald for another year. Not if I could help it. My brother finally shut his trap when he moved out. Fortunate for him. I had big plans for him. Big, painful plans for him indeed.

I still had my ugly glasses when school started, but I managed. I had a full head of fake hair. It slightly boosted my esteem. I'd gotten over what kids said about my glasses. Even though they still spoke of them, "Nice glasses," kids would say. But it didn't bother me.

I soon became on the outs of the social population of the school. I went by silently. Unnoticed by anyone, I'd finally faded away. I was now able to breath! My troubles were over. For that, I was thankful.

The peaceful silence didn't last long however. This boy bumped into me and my wig caught on his bag. It came off onto his bag. Everyone stopped. It was dead silent. I grabbed the wig off of his shoulder and held it to me. I looked at the people in the corridor. All of their eyes were on me.

To add to my horror, someone shouted, "It's a wig!"

Everyone began laughing at me. They were pointing and laughing. The teasing began again full blast. I heard people shouting, "Baldy's back!" which made more people laugh. I looked around me, horrified that everyone was, once again, laughing at me. My eyes began to water, which only made more people laugh. I ran off, covering my face, leaving a trail of laughter behind me.

This year was awful. As much as I hated the wig, I still wore it. Everyone knew it was fake and still laughed at me. But I didn't want to stop wearing it. I would rather wear a wig and be laughed at than go bald and be laughed at.

At the end of the year, George Weasley came up to me and apologized. I decided to pardon him from my revenge. Fred, however, would get all of it.

Year Six:

That summer was my turning point. My hair grew back, full and long. Thanks to remedies I read about. I had also filled out. It was embarrassing that I'd been flat and ugly most of my school career. But this year would be different. I knew that for sure. My mother had gotten contacts for me, so I wouldn't have to wear my painfully hideous glasses. I was finally beautiful.

I went back to school and executed my revenge. I made Fred pay. I made him pay it in numerous detentions that I had caused. It felt good. No one knew who I was. They were all under the impression I'd committed suicide. Which, in a way, I had. I had killed my former self. I'd grown into a beautiful butterfly, so to speak. It felt great.