GLORY // book one

- PART 2 -

THEO

~

SOMETIMES, IT REALLY SUCKS to be a witch. Now, I know what everyone will say— what? Magic is the greatest gift in the flipping world, blah, blah, blah —yeah, sure, I agree with you on that. Magic itself is badass, no doubt. But, the rest of it, that just sucks.

The house-clique's, the deceitful everything, the endless days spent surrounded by people who hate you. Just being a Slytherin earned you glares, hisses, insults. Most people seemed to be convinced that anyone sporting green was a bigoted asshole. And while some bigoted assholes were in Slytherin, there were some in every house— yes, even Hufflepuff, the loyal freaks.

Growing up was easier and harder. I was in America— Chicago, New York, Huston, DC. Growing up, I went all over the US. My mom was always vague about her work, and I knew better than to ask, keeping myself in an ignorant bliss. I went to a No-Maj school, learned to count, sung my ABC's, got into trouble a lot, got punished a lot more. I made a friend with an odd No-Maj boy named Owen when I was in nine— in Chicago— and lost touch when I was ten; my mom didn't let me talk to him after we moved. After that, I didn't really want any friends, it was easier than getting attached. Of course, it's hard to keep from forming any connections when you're stuck with the same people 80 percent of the year for four years straight.

Overall, life was fine. I learned how to stay out of trouble, stopped getting punished as much, and I drew. I drew a lot, until I could draw. There wasn't a lot to do when I was home; most of the time I knew better than to leave my room. My mother wasn't a good woman, but I learned how to walk the tightrope of her emotions.

But, there was always an issue that my mother couldn't control with her perfect curls and harsh lessons. My father.

It always bugged me that I didn't have a dad. I had a father, Sirius, who lived somewhere in the UK. But, I didn't have anyone teaching me to ride a broom, or healing my scraped knee. No dad was there to pick me up from school or tuck me in, or take me away or protect me from my mother. Instead, he was that for Harry Potter. He didn't wasn't to leave the UK for his daughter, so he just used the Potter kid as a proxy. That kid got four plus parents at every recital, every game, all of it. Along with loads of adoring fans, admiring The Boy Who Lived.

And, it used to piss me off. Here I was, alone with my heartless mother, my only friend a thousand miles away probably thinking I hated him, and there was some kid who got both of his parents, plus one of mine, and my godfather, Remus. When I started my first year at Hogwarts, I was ready to distance myself from the Boy Who Stole My Dad before he even got there. I ended up in Slytherin and I was named a Beater my second year (I may not be the strongest, but I have enough rage to make up for it). But it was the wrong position if I wanted any glory.