Disclaimer: Hi, mum! Just checking to see if you really conceived me or if I'm actually JK Rowling in disguise. No? Darn it. Guess I won't be owning the Potter-verse today.

The following chapter includes the Girl Who Lived, the Dursleys, snakes, a mention of Wolfgang Mozart, brief mention of Muggles, Hogwarts and Quidditch, the Weasleys, especially Ronald Weasley, Percy Weasley and Molly Weasley, a mention of Slytherin and Salazar Slytherin, and Ginny Weasley.

INTRODUCING MISTLETOE POTTER

Chapter 4: In which the Weasleys receive quite a scare

Mistletoe Petronica Potter never fit in.

That was a given. Living as a Potter amongst Dursleys, a redhead amongst blondes and a mind-reading freak amongst a group of boring idiots, she shouldn't have expected anything else. But somewhere at the back of her mind, there was always the thought that she was better. That she was special. And that she was very, very powerful.

She often wondered what she was doing here. Living with the Dursleys was…boring. She'd never lived a day without being fed and she slept in the largest bedroom in a very large house (The reason being that the room contained a study) but sometimes she just felt like there was something…something missing.

At a very young age, she had been slighted as a misfit. She was the piece meant to fit into the hole in the jigsaw, but wasn't part of the set. Aunt Tuney had always disliked her 'freakishness' with a fierce passion. Dudley had always been careful to tread lightly with her. The other children stayed clear of her. Weirdo, posh, crazy, they thought about her. She was grateful that Dudley, with his ounce of kindness, had kept their bullying at bay by bullying them in return.

On the surface, she was a smart, if not abnormally intelligent, niece who liked to converse with Uncle Vernie about his wealth. But the underlying currents within her told her she could do better, that she was wasting her precious talents here, that she should be out there, ruling the world with the entire town wrapped around her little finger. What on Earth was stopping her?

No one normal could hear other people's thoughts voluntarily. No normal child could say things in people's heads. It was a blessing at times, but also a curse – she grew up in a world without friends. People constantly called her crazy behind her back, and whenever she retaliated, word would always pass round amongst the teachers, whispering that it was that Mistletoe Potter again. They always advised her to work alone on school projects. Apparently, she scared the other children.

Every year, it got worse. At first, communicating with her mind substituting talking during the early years of her childhood. Then, the occasional peak in her family's minds, but only surface thoughts. Soon, however, Mistletoe realized that should she look long enough into someone's eyes, she could not only read their thoughts, but remember their life. Their entire life could suddenly be locked in her sub-conscience, like a dream. Most of the time, only recent or important events she could remember, but often, randomly during the day, she'd see an image and suddenly remember someone else's thoughts.

She could remember the lives of four individuals, three of which were the terrified victims of her bullying, or so it was rumoured amongst the school staff. The fourth was a strange memory, one which she often forgot about, something she couldn't exactly remember taking. The minds she peaked in were mostly students and teachers, no one with such a strange, sinister past as the mind whose life she had captured at the back of her sub-conscience.

The memory belonged to an orphan named Tom. That much she knew. He led a rather similar life to hers, feared by the children and adults. Beyond the very early memories of innocence, the owner of this life lived in darkness, pain and suffering. There was so little emotion beyond triumph, hatred and greed. It worried Mistletoe a little. Though this Tom seemed to relish in his strength, his life had abruptly ended in absolute terror.

It wasn't a life Mistletoe wanted.

The snakes understood. The first time was when she was four. In the middle of the night, they called out to her and she ran to them.

"This is a lonely, lonely world," the snakes hissed. "Tell me, child, speaker, do you know why we creatures are subjected to a life of rejection, hatred and fear?"

"The Bible says God punished the snake for enticing Eve into eating the forbidden fruit," Mistletoe answered. "The snake lost its legs, and Eve's children were cursed into hating it."

"Well said… we are hated, damned, ignored by the other creatures. We are feared. We are alone."

"Freaks," Mistletoe muttered, thinking back to Aunt Tuney's favorite word.

"You do not fear us," one snake mused.

"No, I don't."

"Tell me, human child, have you heard of a man called Salazar Slytherin?"

It was a name Mistletoe couldn't help but ponder. Yes, she had heard. Tucked somewhere at the back of her mind, it was a name she knew she should remember, and fair enough, for most of her life, she would. But where exactly had she heard…?

"It was so many years ago. I never met him, nor my mother, but his name is whispered among us…he was legendary…the first of them not to fear us…not to hate us…he understood us…spoke to us…just like you now…"

"What happened to him?"

"He was killed, eventually. Like us, he was feared, shunned. An anomaly among his own people. For a time, he lived with us, but the peace never lasted. Some say the same people who compelled him to leave, captured and tortured him until death finally took pity on him and ended his life. Others say it was treachery. We may never know."

Indeed, as Death, I did. I took that life. One thousand years ago, it was. Salazar's eyes were very much like Mistletoe Potter's. They held the same essence of cold confidence, but they did not glow. They weren't, as Albus Dumbledore called it, the Mark of Death. Throughout his life, I came across Salazar Slytherin many times, all (except the last) of which had involved him pointing the wand at the struggling, tortured soul I would collect. When I finally captured him, it was with regret that I could not repeat the circumstances of his death as many times as he had killed. By the end, it simply wasn't worth it.

Of course, Mistletoe Potter didn't know any of this. She was intrigued, curious at the revered man. Years later, there will be a time when she will have the chance to meet him, and surprisingly, she will choose to decline.

"Do you think he was one of my ancestors?" She asked.

"He may well be. It was all so long ago. Our ancestors served his line for a while, but what was once greatness ate away to mere pity. His talent of snake-speak passed on, but not his nobility, his morality, and very little of his courage. Such a pity."

Mistletoe thought briefly to her Aunt Tuney, who coveted Dudley like he was the second Jesus, Uncle Vernie who snorted when he laughed, and Dudley, who routinely managed straight D's on his school report – and was proud of them.

It was therefore the right decision, Mistletoe knew, when she decided to befriend the snakes. They would huddle together in a corner and talk for hours and hours. Sometimes, she'd bring one of them home. The snakes were cunning enough not to be caught, and their hisses, which she soon realised that only she understood, another talent of hers, would lull her to sleep.

She found she connected the most with child genius figures, other children who had excelled in something at an extremely young age. After first hearing about Wolfgang Mozart, the young boy who played the violin so perfectly at such a tender age, she became obsessed with finding children just like him, like her. It was so good to feel reassured that she wasn't all that freaky. Occasionally, Mistletoe would write to them and they'd always come up with answers that made her feel she wasn't alone.

It was two summers ago when Mistletoe met Ronald Weasley. Or more specifically, the Weasleys.

She was participating in a chess tournament being held around children her age. Though Mistletoe knew her stronghold was not in the ever-popular game, it was easy to win when she put her mind down to forming tactics and strategies. It was a plus when the expressions of her opponents were so easy to read.

She had devised a carefully thought-out strategy which involved an army of pawns moving forward together destroying the first line of defense, then piercing the opponent at the heart of the battle, gaining rank in the process. Any fallen pawns would be replaced with her other pieces. The reason why the strategy worked so incredibly well was mostly because she moved her chess pieces at random, occasionally eating a bishop or knight here or there whilst sneakily moving her pawns forward. Most weren't aware of where she was heading until it was far too late.

There she was, playing her way to the top, when the only person left to compete against was Ron Weasley. A tall, gangly boy with freckles was all that stood between her and winning the chess tournament.

It wasn't anything formal. No, the tournament was held in a rather secluded area of town, one which Uncle Vernie had labeled 'freaky', and Ronald Weasley's entire family was hardly able to fit into the small hall.

All it took was a simple glance into the mind of Ron Weasley and Mistletoe suddenly understood everything. Almost. His mind was incredibly messy with plenty of made-up words which she supposed was a boy thing, but she had gotten the gist of things – all his life, Ronald had wanted to be great.

It wasn't very ambitious of him, Mistletoe thought. After all, she had a more specific goal – discover exactly what was stopping her from ruling the world, exterminate whatever it was, and proceed with her big strategy on just how she was going to manage. He, on the other hand, merely wished to stand out from his crowd of brothers, each more talented than he was.

She pitied him. The chess tournament was his one chance at 'being great', being noticed, and she thought he wasn't doing a very good job. He commanded the attention of his parents poorly and shied away from the crowd. Almost like her, except she was reluctant to join the group of budding chess whizzes because she knew she was better than them. Mistletoe wondered what was bothering him, and reflected back to his mind, deciding on one sure thing – Ron Weasley was definitely at least fifteen per cent insane.

So when Ronald Weasley stuck out his hand, she sniffed at him with an air of disgust. The friendly look on his face may have suddenly dropped, but his family, who stood right behind him, nodded in approval, especially the woman she knew was his mother. Ronald, noticing his family's behaviour, turned a dangerous shade of purple and glared menacingly at her. She supposed he thought she was a snob, just like the rest of the shallow crowd.

No, Mistletoe had refrained from shaking Ron's hand because it was disgusting germinated with green slime. She wondered who had dipped his hand there, and congratulated them on doing so without the realisation of the boy himself. She then wondered whether her reaction had occurred more than once that day.

Mistletoe decided to be more benevolent and said to him with a slight smirk on her face, "Your hand, Ron? It's covered in green slime."

With a look of utter horror, Ron turned an even deeper shade of purple, almost reminding her of Aunt Tuney's vomit the time they had boarded a ferry destined for Europe. Very nasty. She suspected, at first glance, that he wouldn't be hard to beat.

She was, for once, wrongly mistaken. While her strategy, the line of pawns all moving forward to possess the opponent, had worked incredibly well with the previous twenty-eight competitors, Ron had taken full advantage of his rook, his queen and his bishop, even after she had annihilated all of his pawns. In fact, if she didn't know better, she'd say there was something about him that made him know, just know, what her plans were and see right through her.

But that didn't mean she gave up. She forced all her brain power and onto the game and gave it her all as she tried to decipher his moves through the messy works of his mind...

In the end, it was an extremely close match. Both were down to their kings, moving around the court aimlessly, waiting for the other to make the first move. After circling each other for a little over an hour, sometimes coming close to being eaten (especially Mistletoe, but she supposed he was too tired to realise), the judges finally realised that the game would probably never end, and gave the championship to both of them.

Ron's parents were so proud, clapping so loudly, even as he scowled. And Ron? Mistletoe shook her head at his attitude. Had Vernie or Tuney come, she would have put on a happy face, even if it meant letting go of her cold one.

But there was just something about Ron, something that made her think, that perhaps, he was just like her. She sifted through his mind, occasionally tidying up messes here or there, careful not to read too deep. There were words she had never before come across: Muggles, Hogwarts, Dumbledore and, most of all, Quidditch. She understood none of what they meant, except for one word, one which the snakes had often muttered about with pride. Slytherin.

That one word made her consider his talent – what if he was the same as her? Of course, he obviously wasn't as powerful – she doubted he could read minds or talk to snakes. But the inkling was there and she couldn't help but approach him after the game...

"Excuse me," she'd uttered loudly, a little stunned when suddenly under the curious gaze of the entire Weasley tribe.

Before the rest of his family had recovered, Ron, still a little put out, said rudely, "yes?"

Mistletoe smiled, almost mocking him with her politeness. "I don't believe we've met before. My name's Mistletoe. I'd like to congratulate you on winning the title."

He sent her another murderous, and a little incredulous, glare. "Yeah, yeah. Just rub it in, why don't you?" he muttered. "Bloody Slytherin."

Mistletoe raised an eyebrow. Slytherin. There was that name again, once again uttered. A hiss ran through her. She'd almost forgotten one of her snakes' presence around her waist. He may not have understood any word apart from 'Slytherin' but the boy's tone was evident. She glared at him, knowing her chilling green eyes were illuminating. She honestly didn't care. "Excuse me?" she hissed. "Slytherin is twenty times the mastermind you'll ever hope to become."

Perhaps it was the fact that she had heard his mutter, perhaps it was because she had retaliated, exposing her knowledge of just who Slytherin was, or maybe it was the small fact that her eyes were glowing a rather sinister colour, but suddenly, the entire Weasley clan paled and stared at her in a mixture of awe, suspicion and terror.

One of Ron's many brothers, one who looked especially prim and proper, stared at her almost in recognition. "M-merry – I mean, Mistletoe Potter?" he squeaked, shoving his hand at her. His sister, the youngest, squeaked.

She nodded, a little perplexed at the attitude of these Weasleys. Deciding to add onto the exterior image of haughtiness, she sniffed again, taking his hand nonetheless. "It's nice to know that at least some of us have manners." She smiled at him, taking a brief peak into his mind at the same time. "Isn't that right...Percy Weasley?"

Percy was the opposite of his younger brother. He had ambition, a burning ambition that so rivaled her own. She knew, for sure, that he also had talent. His goal was to work in a ministry of sorts, and lacked the jealousy and bitterness Ronald had. Percy, she decided, would be a nice acquaintance to make.

"Wow, you certainly have ambition, Percy Weasley," she casually. "So much ambition. Keep it up. It's good to thirst for greatness sometimes."

She glanced, satisfied at his utterly incredulous face and the startled expression of the rest of his pack. Then she placed the money she had won, half of what had been the initial prize, into Ron's frozen hands. "Take it. I'm sure your family needs the money more than I do."

Then with a wink, she stepped away, moving hastily out of the Weasleys' clutches. They only looked horrified. Completely, utterly horrified.

Note:

This chapter only half-satisfied me. I didn't want Mistletoe to sound like a complete cold bitch, but I wanted her to have a childhood that clearly lacked love and affection. I'm not sure if the snake thing worked, but she deserved a pal, and none of the children seemed to fit her, and other animals seemed too…cuddly.

The part with Percy is something that has always caught me. I mean, Percy's so ambitious, and he has the Slytherin quality of using whatever it takes to reach a means (exhibit: 5th year, dumping the family for the Ministry), so why exactly was he Sorted into Gryffindor of all places? Percy's such a rule-abider: he certainly isn't headstrong, and there's not much to be said about his courage. As for wit, he's so prudish it's almost incredible that Fred and George are his brothers.

For the readers out there that like a supportive Ron, just remember that Ron's still an easily offended character, and that he was an ordinary character who only turned into Harry's best friend because Ron was too slow in finding his compartment. The part about the hand was Fred and Georg pranking him.

Hoped this chapter was good enough, folks! Review, any comments welcome.

MaskWithATruth