Disclaimer: I Dont own Marcus Flint, or control his thoughts...sadly.
I'm not foolish; I know very well that I am considered to be hideous. I haven't ever tried to hide it; I grew accustomed to my looks. Mind you, half the people in the school have no idea how many hours I wasted away in front of mirrors, hoping to myself that maybe all these past years have just been a bad nightmare and perhaps I really am not that bad looking. With my luck, I seem to be having spent all those nights wishing on another person star, still after those 17 years I'm a hideous troll.
Frankly, no one seems to understand how typical and annoying their comments are to me. I've heard the whole dental charm comment so many times, that my fist isn't really into it anymore when I punch them. Also the whole, Blimey Flint really is a troll, how many times to I have to go over it, I have fucking troll blood in me! Now that I pummel people, my heart isn't behind it anymore, it's just a pattern that I fallen into.
Lying down in my bed at nights, there always have been those memories that always crept upon me, reminding me of my childhood. How many children hitting the age of 8, had to hear their mother telling them that they are a disgrace to the family. How many of them had spent countless days alone at home, since their mother was to embarrassed to have given birth to a thing like yourself? How many of them had their birthdays forgotten, and never celebrated a decent Christmas? How many have to go through all that just because they were considered too hideous to be a pure-blood?
I hoped that being sorted into Slytherin will manage to please my parents, but all I got on top of that was a threat of my father telling me I had to make the Slytherin Quidditch team, since nothing else was going for me. Of course, I worked hard on that, I made the team, and did I ever receive a congratulations from either of them? No of course not, I was just foolish thinking that it may happen. Without a second thought, I worked hard to still please those two imbeciles, and landed myself as the captain of the team. My mother's response to that was one in which no son should hear their parent say. "Great now all the attention will be on our hideous being of a son." I tried to stop caring from that moment on, I just couldn't seem to let go.
Don't take me for foolish. I know exactly how I look. I won't let anyone else bring me down about it.
Authors Note: I am willing to take request on what you would like Marcus to focus on in his thoughts for upcoming chapters =]