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An Introduction

I am dead. As in dead, dead. As in, father will kill me when he finds out what house I am in. Do not get me wrong, father is the self-righteous Gryffindor and would never kill me. In public, that is. Mother on the other hand probably doesn’t care. She doesn’t give a squat about magic as long as I am still her darling little girl. Yeah, the darling little girl has left the building long ago, which has left my mother in denial. She looks at me and sniffs then goes through the whole endless droning in where she went wrong with me. And that makes me wonder, what the hell is wrong with me? I am only freaking eleven years old. I think the darling little girl left around the age of my three minutes of life. I think it was the fact that I refused to “pop” out of my mother and I bit the doctor on the finger when I did decide to “pop”. I don’t seem to know exactly where I got this “attitude” of mine. Mom swears it comes from my father’s side. For once I agree with her. It must be from Grandpa Quinn, the scoundrel. The man is a walking, or in this case wobbling, piece of dog dung. I know, creative of me and unkind. This brings me back to my current situation. This is what transpired.

I was feeling giddy and excited about Hogwarts, you know the standard first year feeling thing. And you know the ceiling is practically amazing. It’s enchanted you know. I didn’t exactly figure that out by myself, I’m not the reading type but a chatty red head told me. I think her name was Lily. Yeah, her name was Lily and I was feeling a little more comfortable and was actually pleased to be making a friend. Lily and I were complete opposites. She was outgoing, I was shy in a moody way, she was kind and I was rather the angry sort. The only thing we had in common from what I could tell was our red hair. And even that was hardly relatable. Lily’s hair was a blazing red, unmistakable red. Mine, was more reddish brown. It sort of looked like dirt. Lily’s hair was long and silky. Mine was cut below my ear and was fairly wavy and looked like dirt. I also noticed that Lily had hardly any freckles whatsoever. That is pretty much crazy because part of the whole red hair package is the freckles. I had a million, gazillion so you couldn’t tell if there was a spot on my forehead or a freckle. It’s quite shameful actually. So there I am waiting to be called. Apparently we had to put some sort of battered hat on our heads. It was pretty much the weirdest thing I had ever witnessed. The mere thought of all those eyes staring at me sent me into a wave of paranoia. I waited impatiently and when the first name was called; Abbot, Thomas I watched transfixed as a tall boy walked nervously toward the chair and the rather imposing teacher named Professor McGonagall. McGonagall casually plopped the hat on his head as if bored. I waited for something magical to happen. But nothing did but Thomas appeared to be having a conversation with the hat. Few more seconds ticked by. Then suddenly a roar from the hat that sent me tumbling onto somebody with surprise, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Hey watch it!” Was the reaction I got from this individual. I turned around to give them a piece of my mind. How totally rude, I mean it was not like I meant to tumble on them. I glared stonily at the boy I had apparently bumped. The boy was tall for his age and had long black tendrils of silky locks that framed his crystal clear gray eyes. He had the lightest complexion, which rivaled my own and a delicate nose. In fact he looked rather fragile but that thought was quickly diminished from my mind as soon as he opened his mouth to speak.

“What are you looking at dirt face?” He said scathingly, crinkling his nose in disgust. I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind when a name was called and it was apparently his.

“Black, Sirius.”

He pushed past me and arrogantly placed the hat on his head, snatching it away from McGonagall. It’s official, I hate Sirius Black. I glared menacingly at the idiotic boy and wished him a painful death; maybe the hat would gobble him up? But as I watched this boy I saw his face fall from arrogance to confusion to fear and finally to anger. I wondered what the hat was saying to him. Maybe the hat had decided to gobble him up after all. I crossed my fingers and hoped.

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat finally yelled. There was a collective gasp and I turned toward the sound coming from the Slytherin table. What was so wrong with Black being in Gryffindor? I would ask somebody else later. I looked at Black and I saw him hand the hat back to McGonagall forcefully while he stomped toward the Gryffindor table, glaring sullenly around him. Merlin, what a freak.

After that I sort of blanked out and didn’t really pay attention after that. I did pay attention enough to know that Lily Evans was sorted into Gryffindor. I tried to smile warmly at her but my heart was tumbling inside my chest and I was too lost in my own little world. So when the professor called my name up I didn’t get it at first. People turned and looked around trying to find this, Lucinda Gray.

“Gray, Lucinda!” McGonagall called again impatiently.

That was when it struck me.

“That’s my name!” I yelled running toward her. There was a laugh from the Great Hall and I forced myself not to blush like the stupid red head that I am. Lucinda, in my opinion was the worst possible name anybody could get. I asked mother what she was on when she decided to name me. She had looked at me disapprovingly and told me that they named me Lucinda, which means beautiful light, in hopes of me living up to my name. Ha! What a pity, they were sadly mistaken.

I sat gingerly on the seat while the hat loomed closer to my head. I closed my eyes and hoped for the worst.

A Lucinda Gray huh? I think I met your father. Nice man. Temperamental sometimes. I snorted. Ah, I see you have that in you. Nasty temper… brilliant mind…. you’d do well in Ravenclaw…. but there is definitely that fierce loyalty…. Gryffindor perhaps? Courage you have plenty of that…. Maybe Gryffindor would be the best for you…. Difficult…. Your name does suit you… I snorted again this hat obviously has lost his mind. Not that name…your surname, Gray….. Neither here nor there…. AHH… there is slyness in you…. Lust…. Impatience…and something else… there is darkness within you… A faint sense of loneliness… Difficult… hmmm…. you have the opposite problem of the Sirius Black boy…. Hmmm… Gryffindor or Slytherin? Gryffindor or SLYTHERIN!

And that was just the beginning of my rather screwed up life. And now here I am sitting at the Slytherin table while people are looking at me coldly. Merlin, are Slytherin’s always so unfriendly? I glanced around me, all of my fellow house mates seemed like terrible snobs. I looked at my neighbor; she was a pretty girl with dark hair and even darker eyes. She seemed oddly familiar. She was engaged in a conversation with another girl who also was very pretty but the total opposite of the dark haired girl. The girl had white blonde hair and deep blue eyes. She had a perpetual look of sniffing dung underneath her nose. I almost laughed out loud but I heard bits and pieces of their conversation so I didn’t.

“I know Auntie and Uncle are going to be so ashamed of him, the only Black to have landed in Gryffindor.” The dark haired girl said to the blonde hair girl with mirth. She seemed to enjoy talking about the misfortune of others. That was when it hit me. Sirius Black was this girl’s cousin. No wonder it was a surprise for him to be in Gryffindor, he was a Black. Pureblooded, muggle hater, Black had just turned into a blood traitor against his own will. If I didn’t already hate the boy I would actually feel sorry for him. I thought vaguely about trading spots with him.

I focused back onto the sorting and I felt this kind of relief you know? I mean, yeah the whole ordeal is over but now that I am sorted into this house (Slytherin no less). It gives me an excuse for being me. I was the infamous “black sheep” of the family and this proved it more than anything. I had an excuse now for my silly, quirky ways. Sure, most wizards and witches who end up in Slytherin turn out dark and stuff but what are the odds of that happening to me? Zero to gazillion. I suppose the sorting hat was right, I did suit my name, (my last name that is). Gray, neither here nor there, never black or white, I was a mix, I was in the middle and I found that I liked it better that way. Everything was too boring when it was black and white, gray added that little something. Gray was another option, it was the in-between option and I suppose I was that other option. The only thing that was bothering me however was the fact that Slytherin didn’t accept “Gray’s”. You had to know where you stood in this house, if not they would not be very accepting. I gulped at the thought of it. Merlin, I was set for seven years of torture. I thought all this as I watched fellow first years being sorted. I watched as a boy with untamable black hair bounced almost happily toward Professor McGonagall and shook her hand with vigor. The Great Hall laughed at his antics. I smiled, the boy seemed wonderfully comfortable with everything, and I envied that. Since I was fairly close to the front I could see the slight twitch of McGonagall’s mouth and the dazzling smile of this James Potter. He eagerly waited as the sorting hat descended on his mop of raven hair; he began laughing, something the sorting hat said no less, and was instantly put into Gryffindor. For a brief moment I wanted to be in Gryffindor so I could just get to know the carefree, charming James Potter. I heaved a sigh and looked around me once again. Cold faces, burly guys, seductive girls, devilish smirks, arrogant expressions, Merlin was there no happiness in this house?
I turned back toward the sorting just in time to see a small quivering boy being sorted into Gryffindor. After the sorting I was surrounded by at least six Slytherin’s. There was a girl named Doria Iindivell, she seemed nice enough, there was a snooty, pug like girl by the name of Elora Tenor, another girl named Jennifer Wingwaff, I thought this was funny and so did she, I met a large boy by the name of Vincent Crabbe and another boy named Patrick Goyle. There was also one other boy; he was intriguing that one, with his raspy voice, mysterious demeanor and long greasy black hair. He mostly kept to himself. He was sitting beside me and as I was staring at the back of his head, wondering what went on it, he suddenly turned and I was greeted by two never-ending black orbs framed under long lashes. This was Severus Snape. I took in his face, his hooked nose, and his sallow skin but there was that mystery surrounding him, I was entranced.

“Erm,” I started to say hoping he’d cut me off with a cutting remark. He didn’t. “You have nice hair,” I stated lamely. I hit myself mentally.

Severus glared at me but I refused to recoil back in terror. I tried smiling, but it turned into a smirk. Merlin, I am turning into a Slytherin.

“I wasn’t joking.” I said hurriedly, putting my hands in front of my body in a defensive manner. “It was a pathetic, honest excuse for me to strike a conversation, I am not good at this. I’ll be you know, minding my own business, Merlin please don’t hurt me.” My God was I blabbering like a fool.

Severus smirked coldly.

“I don’t bite.” He whispered dangerously close to me. I refused to show him any emotion but quickly turned into the girl my mother despised, temperamental and ruthless.

“And don’t you even try to bite unless you want a sock in the face.” I hissed into his ear. He looked at me in surprise probably wondering where on earth was the fool of the girl that told him he had nice hair.

“But if you, as you so coldly put it, sock me in the face, you’d miss out on my ‘nice hair.’” He grinned and stared me down.

I blushed like the stupid red head that I am.

“If you must know I have a slight illness.” I lied through my teeth.

“Oh?” He said feigning interest.

“Yes, it’s a err…an obsession with hair, called, hairmotalistness, I’m afraid it started after a traumatic event evolving hair.” I took a sip of my pumpkin juice not believing what was coming out of my mouth. Hairmotalistness? Argh.

“But how could you have an obsession with hair if you had a traumatic experience with hair, wouldn’t that be a phobia?” He said while cutting up his steak, his mouth was twitching.

I choked on my pumpkin juice and squirmed under his gaze. He had caught me in my web of lies.

“Yes well, it was a phobia at first then it became an obsession.” I said after my choking incident, which had left me breathless. Oh Merlin, why couldn’t I just kept my mouth shut instead of lying about a hair obsession. God, I am such a freak, no wonder I was sorted into Slytherin. I twirled my hair around my finger nervously.

“Your not pureblooded are you?” He said looking up from his steak.

“That obvious eh?” I asked avoiding his gaze while piling all possible food dishes onto my plate. I was starving. I began stuffing my face with all the food.

Severus looked at me with disgust; he probably had never seen a girl eat like a monster before, most of the girls in Slytherin looked a bit on the anorexic side. What a pity, they were missing out on life.

“Hungry?” He smirked.

“That obvious eh?” I replied sarcastically. I rolled my eyes and continued eating. Please, don’t let him bring up my ‘hair illness’, please.

“Must be your hairmotalistness that’s making you hungry.” He said coolly.

Damn you.

I pretended I didn’t hear him and ate my meal in silence he did the same. I forked spoon after spoon of food into my mouth. Mother had never cooked this good, ever. My dinners usually consisted of Macaroni and cheese; I refused to eat her meat loaf. With these thoughts in mind I started remembering my family and a tiny bit of homesickness engulfed me. I imagined my brother, the perfect specimen of normalcy meaning not a drop of magical blood in him, teasing me mercilessly about how if I kept on eating like I did I was going to turn into a cow. He was always very supportive, my brother. He was three years my senior and a pest. I used to adore him; I was the lap dog following him around, hoping that one day I would be like him. My big brother, my savior. That was until I caught him smoking with some of his idiotic friends. I suppose that’s when my idolism for him stopped. He doesn’t know I know about what he does. I tried in my little eleven-year-old way to make him stop, sneaking into his room, trying to find his secret stash and when I did I would throw it away. He’d be deprived for a few days and for me that would be enough. I continued to do it even after I found out I was a witch. My brother had tried to make me to do magic for him and would laugh when I would set something on fire. We both laughed, I loved him. I wondered who would sneak into his room at night and find his stash of drugs and throw them away like I did. I sighed deeply and suddenly I lost my appetite. I jumped about a mile when Severus spoke, I was that wrapped up in my own thoughts.

“Severus Snape.” He said holding out his hand.

I looked at him oddly. He looked awkward and uncertain as he held up his hand.

“I know.” I said taking his hand and smiling shyly. His fingers barely grazed mine before he hastily snatched them away. He was obviously not used to people touching him.

“Lucinda Gray.” I said to him. “Don’t even try to abbreviate my name, its more horrible that way.” I said. “Just call me Lucinda.”

“I rather like Gray.” He muttered.

“Fine. Then Gray it is.” I said to him, rolling my eyes. “ I’ll call you Snape then.” I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever Gray.” He said smirking.

“Whatever Snape.” I smirked back.

That was the beginning of our weird, detached relationship. You could say he was my closest acquaintance.

Maybe Slytherin wasn’t such a bad house after all.

It was only a few years later did I realize how wrong I was.

So, here is my new story. So what do you think? Horrible? Reviews are always welcome......alot. So tell me how I did.

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