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Hufflepuff. I should have known. I knew I wasn't smart enough for Ravenclaw. I'm too spineless, gutless, hollow for Gryffindor. I'm not sly, or cunning, or ambitious, like a Slytherin. And I'm not loyal. I'm NOT. But "take the rest, and teach them all the same." If you're too pathetic for any house to want you, Hufflepuff will still take you. "Hufflepuff will take anyone, of course you were sorted there."

I tried out for Quidditch, like my parents told me to. I did end up on the team, as a Chaser. “Do make sure to try out for Quidditch, Doll. It isn’t like your marks will get you anywhere!” I can't say I actually care for the game...but there is something about being up in the air. I...feel more free up there. That high up, no one really can see my expression, and even if they could, lots of people have a 'game face', so I don't have to keep the mask up, smiling, happy, no matter what. Sometimes...it almost feels like the wind and the cheers of the crowd could fill the hollow spaces inside.

I hadn't thought school was very much better than home. I’m always around people, it seems, I even share a dorm. I can almost never let my mask down, and it's hard to pretend all the time. But...going home, it seems like I forgot just how nasty my parent's endless fights were, and how common their casual little cruelties were. "Wear the yellow dress, not the white one. You always look like a cow in that one." Not two nights home, Mother and Father get into another row. Father was yelling, smashing the ridiculous knickknacks that dot the shelves and tables like invitations. Mother, as usual, just cleaned up afterwards and pretended all was well.

Then...she started in with me the next morning, picking, prying, with her honeyed little comments, her poisonous barbs. “Have you been remembering your sunblock and lotion Doll? Your skin is practically leather!” It wasn't much she hadn't said before, but somehow it just cut deeper this time. I’m not sure why I even came out of my room. By ten in the morning she "needed her headache potion." Does she really think I can't tell the difference between headache potion and absinthe? She was "sleeping off her headache" within the hour.

I went back to my room, bubbling with the need to run and let the rush of blood and the wash of wind against my face clear my mind. "Just hold on a moment. Tie you shoes, smile, you can stop when you're out of sight." I was tying my laces when I just...I don't even know. Running just didn't seem like it would be enough, like I could get far enough away. I grabbed my wand, summoned the Knight bus, and somewhere between getting on the bus and reaching Diagon Alley, decided to grab some money and disappear in muggle London for a bit. I don't even know why, and my pulse was so loud in my ears, my skin felt too tight somehow.

The first hour or two I can't really recall, just this vibrating pressure trapped inside me, a static veil around me. When it cleared, I was sitting in an office with a muggle who was telling me I just had to show my pass at any number of gyms, fitness centres, or sports centres, and my day there would be charged to my account. He gave me a handful of pamphlets, took my picture, printed my "pass", and asked if I would like my tour and gym safety session right then, or later.

I spent the day learning how to use the strange muggle contraptions, and read the papers the muggle in the office had given me as I had dinner at a little cafe. Apparently, I had purchased a membership pass that worked for a staggering number of places muggles go to exercise, and all I had to do was show the smooth, glossy card the man had printed with my name, eerily motionless picture, a company logo, and a strip of vertical lines all in a row.

I thought about calling the Knight bus and going home, but even thinking about going home made me feel ill. I did end up having to call the bus, as I was completely lost. I must have walked miles through London in my strange mood earlier, and I couldn’t remember a bit of it. I still had money left, so I bought a nightdress and a second outfit in muggle London, and then I stayed at the Leakey Cauldron. I ended up staying there a few nights, and checking out the places in the pamphlets during the day. It was fascinating what the muggles came up with to keep in shape. The staff at the Leakey Cauldron started to look at me a bit oddly after a few days, so I went home. Not home, it never has been. Just the place where I sleep.

While I was in London, Father had left on another trip, and Mother had never even noticed I was gone. I slept and showered at home, but I left first thing each morning, and came home late all summer. I wonder if they’ll even notice when I go back to Hogwarts?

Another year back at Hogwarts. It took Mother nearly a month to realize I was gone. She wanted to show me off at some party, and made quite the fool of herself for not knowing I was, of course, already left for term. She was very cross with me, even though it was all her fault.

It was a little hard coming back. I’d spent most of my summer on my own, so getting used to the school schedule again was a little like a leash. My mask was so….heavy, too. It felt so thick, brittle….."How many times must I remind you to smile, Doll? Merlin, you’d think a Dementor had kissed you."

The stillness was another annoyance. After so many weeks of spending my days at muggle ‘gyms’ and walking London….I’d never really noticed before, but….wizards are so….lazy. Other than Quidditch, none of them ever seem to move….alright, some of them do. That one fifth year is always doing those ‘katas,’ and there are a few others, but I can feel eyes on me when I run, and I hate it. None of the muggles batted an eye when I spent hours at my athletic pursuits. But….I can feel the disapproval of the other witches when I run, especially the purebloods. Some of them feel so much like Mother.

Well, speaking of Quidditch, I made reserve Beater this year. The muggles have a sport called baseball, where one hits a fist sized ball with a bat about the thickness of a forearm and a bit longer, then play a strange mix of catch and tag, then repeat when your teammates hit the ball. They also have places one can practice just the hitting of the ball with the bat, and I spent quite a bit of time in one of these ‘batting cages.’ The basic ideas of hitting a baseball and hitting a bludger are almost the same. I do like playing beater much better than chaser. I don’t feel as exposed, and the feeling of the bat connecting with the bludger, the shock traveling up my arms, it just feels powerful.

Classes are still nothing special. I’m not top of the class or anything, but it isn’t like I’m failing, either. I just sort of blend into the group, and get by. "I don’t know why you bother Doll. It isn’t like your marks will matter. Besides, too much studying will give you wrinkles." Hopefully I’ll eventually find something I’m actually interested in.

Mother actually showed up to get me from the station. Apparently after her faux pass last year, she scheduled a little “home for summer” tea and planned a “back to school” luncheon for the day before I go back. Mother can’t be bothered to remember me most of the time, but she never forgets a party. "Hurry up, Doll, we don’t want to be late!"

It didn’t take long for mother to forget me again, thankfully. I headed back to my old haunts from last year, but saw something interesting after a few days, outside. Some older teens were running, but they weren’t sticking to the ground. Instead they were going over obstacles, up buildings, across roofs, completely fearless. I wanted that. It took a bit to track down someone who would teach me, sometimes I hate being so unfamiliar with the muggle world, and how young I look. The thing they were doing, they called it parkour. I had to argue with them to get them to teach me, but…it was worth it. They seemed surprised by how long I practiced every day, and how quickly I picked up the basics. I was already in decent shape, but this pushed me so much further. I’m still a fairly raw beginner, but I think I’m learning quickly.

I met a boy this summer. Not like most girls mean, not like I started crushing on someone like some romance novel airhead. I mean I landed on him when jumping a wall. He was nice, helped me up, and the first thing he wanted to know was if someone was chasing me. It was a bit of a shock to me, especially since after a second, I recognized him. I didn’t know him personally, but he was an upperclassman from Hogwarts, one I recognized because there was a rumor around school that he had something strange with his magic. I tried to put my mask back on, but I messed up. I hadn’t been expecting to run into the magical world, and it threw me. "Merlin Doll! How many times must I tell you to remember your eyes when you smile!" He called my lie, said no one looked that terrified if they weren’t running from something.

I was just so tired of hiding, and hanging out in the muggle world with facial piercings and a tattoo to boot, he certainly wasn’t a social climber. I dropped the mask since it wasn’t fooling anyone, and admitted that I was running away from my family because I’d go crazy if I had to keep pretending to be their pretty little Doll. And that they hadn’t noticed when I ran away last summer, either.

He didn’t even try to talk me out of it, or tell me I was silly, or too young. He just asked if I had a place to stay, offered to find me somewhere if I didn’t. Once I started talking, it was hard to stop. I told him how I technically wasn’t a real runaway, since I still slept at home and had access to the family vault. I just…made sure I never had to see them, which wasn’t hard because father was never home, and mother was always drunk or out at a party. I could hardly believe it when he still didn’t try to tell me to just go home. It isn’t home, just where I sleep. The boy, Jeremy, offered to look out for me. I’d been fine last summer, but most of the time I’d been safe in places with memberships and front desks. I took him up on his offer. The knife tricks were really fun to learn, and it turns out the weirdness with his magic is that he doesn’t use a wand. I think that might be interesting to learn, once school starts up again.

Another year. The Quidditch team was short chasers again this year. Captain Kiremono asked if I could take the chaser position, since I had experience there. It was a surprisingly hard choice. Not the saying yes, but meaning it. I liked playing beater. I looked out for myself, I didn’t have to count on anyone else. I could be as aggressive as I wanted without anyone looking at me strangely. But I was only on the reserve string, so I never got to play during a game. I thought I would like that, avoiding the spotlight, but…I actually missed the rush of playing when it mattered. And…we didn’t have many new players on the team. I knew the beaters, the chasers. So…I took a chance. I said yes to playing chaser, and…I committed. I really did play the position, as best I could. I counted on the beaters to protect me, the other chasers to work with me, and…trusted them. It was terrifying, but I promised myself that if they did take advantage of me, if they did betray me, I’d quit the team. But they didn’t. And once I stopped worrying about it, it really was a lot of fun.

The new classes this year were fun. I did sign up for wandless, and I really liked it. It’s not easy, but it is interesting. I also signed up for Care of Magical Creatures. I really like learning about the different creatures. Most of them so far aren’t really dangerous, but if I keep this class, there should be some really interesting creatures later on. I only had to sign up for two classes, but I ended up choosing healing as well. I love parkour, but sometimes you misjudge a move, and I thought it would be good to be able to patch myself up. It seems like most people take the class because they want to help others, so that’s a little awkward, but the mechanics are the same no matter who you are healing.

While the new classes were fun….not all of the core classes were. Well, it wasn’t that they were bad, or anything. It was mostly one class. Not the entire thing, just the one period. We studied Boggarts this year. For our practical, we had to face one. I didn’t really know what mine would be, but I wasn’t expecting what it turned out to be. My boggart…is me. All grown up, wrapped in Hufflepuff colors, with a big wedding ring, an empty smile, dead eyes, bruises on her wrist, a black eye, and a split lip. Smiling as blood slides down her chin, telling me it’s inevitable, calling me Doll.

I didn’t react well. I completely forgot the spell to handle a boggart, and just tried to…well, I sent the strongest Incendio at her that I could. It didn’t work, of course. She wasn’t hurt at all, and told me it was inevitable. I couldn’t take it. I looked right at her, dropped my wand with a very deliberate eff you, told her off a bit more, and left. I don’t think I was really thinking clearly. I went back to my dorm, and started packing. All I could think about was getting away. Professor Thorne came up to talk to me, and I know she meant well. Really I did. But…how can adults be so clueless? All any of them ever see is what they want to see. A pretty little Doll, a good girl, a happy family. I haven’t always been such an accomplished liar. Why didn’t anyone ever notice something was wrong?

I snapped at Professor Thorne when she said I didn’t seem the type to run away. I couldn’t help it. She didn’t know me, had never really spoken to me before, and had never seen me when I wasn’t being a good little girl. I didn’t seem the type to run away? It’s not like it would have been the first time. She tried to help, but she was just so…naïve. It was a bit like talking to a particularly sheltered firstie…or mother. I almost slipped, towards the end, and started to call her mum, started to comfort her like I always do with mother after one of her and father’s rows.

I guess Professor Thorne was somewhat successful though, since I didn’t run away from Hogwarts after all. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have gone far. There really aren’t a lot of places for a thirteen year old to go. I ended up telling Jer and his girlfriend Gypsy about the boggart, and they seemed worried. Jer’s offered to find me somewhere safe before, and Gypsy did too. I promised to leave if anyone ever hit me, but really, I’m hardly ever home. There’s no point in dramatics when I haven’t seen father in years, and I’ll only see mother in passing.

I’m never going back. For years I’ve been defending my parents, claiming they aren’t abusive, making excuses. No wonder my boggart said it was inevitable. I’ve been just like mother, hiding from the truth this whole time, justifying it, ignoring the reality. Never again.

Mother slapped me. I honestly can’t even remember why. She wanted me to do something, and I refused. I never talk back to her. She insisted, I kept refusing, and it turned into an argument, and then she slapped me across the face, hard. I don’t think she planned to, she looked so shocked you’d have thought I’d slapped her. But she did. And then she tried to shift the blame, said I’d made her hit me, started to scold. I don’t know exactly what my expression was like, but it must have been terrible, because I looked at her and she just stopped.

I realized, right then, that I had to make a choice. I could keep pretending, make excuses, and slide slowly into my boggart’s skin. I could start telling myself new lies, that I could control the situation, blackmail mother a bit, avoid scandal, and just wait it out. But even as it occurred to me, I knew it was just another set of lies. So, I decided to tell myself the truth for once. She hit me once, she’d hit me again. I’d been telling myself for years that I wasn’t abused. No one hit me, I had food, clothing, a roof over my head. I…was lying to myself. No one had ever hit me, but they ripped me to shreds with their words. They were constantly putting me down, destroying my confidence, trying to make me into a passive object instead of a person.

They never actually raised me. I haven’t seen father since I was eleven. He’s always gone, or busy, or spitting caustic little barbs. The only time he ever even pretends to notice me or be nice to me is at parties. I’m nothing but a possession to him. Mother had never hit me before, but she could be just as mean. Her words were usually sweet-sounding, supposedly concerned for me…but poisoned. Backhanded little comments, snide remarks delivered with a smile and a coo, gentle discouragement from ever trying to do anything. When she and father fought, she’d cry and hold me like a stuffed toy, pet my hair, tell me nonsense and lies, have me make her treats or drinks, comfort her and smile, even if she scared me.

She’d dress me up and show me off, then forget about me for days. A few times when I was little we ran out of food, or at least food that I could make for myself. I don’t even know how old I was the first time I stole some money from her purse and walked to town on my own to the grocer’s. I still don’t know why no one ever realized anything was wrong. I couldn’t have been a good enough liar then to fool them all. Not when I was that little. Eventually, I convinced mother to get food delivered, to give me access to the vault. I was too little for that too. But no one blinked at a little girl with her own debit card. Not when I bought shoes that fit, or a warm coat, or any number of things a parent should be buying. No one cared, so it couldn’t be abuse. I had everything I needed, even if I had to get it for myself, even if I always, always checked to see what mood my parents seemed to be in when they walked into a room, hid flinches when they shouted or broke things, cried into my pillow at night, tried to find excuses to stay away during the day. I’m done pretending.

That house is a toxic pit of lies and deception. It’s not a home, and it certainly isn’t my home. I told mother off, and she looked so shocked. She went from trying to scold me to fawning at me like she does to father when he’s angry. It was sickening. I told her I was leaving, and that she’d be paying to support me, but that I wouldn’t be coming back. Then, while she went to comfort herself with her absinthe, I went to Gringotts, stripped my personal account bare, pulled as much as I could from the family vault, got paperwork from the goblins for a private, untouchable account and approval for a bigger withdrawal from the family vault, and bought what I needed. I went back for the last time, packed everything I owned, everything I could get away with taking without blatantly crossing the line into outright theft, made mother wake up enough to sign the paperwork she was too drunk to read, and left.

Thirteen, still months from fourteen, and I was on my own with everything I owned in my pockets. I had to go back to Gringotts to file the papers, and I had a bit of a day out. I wanted to remember why I’d left, why I was done being a good little doll every time I looked in a mirror. So I went to a magical tattoo parlor. I got a flame pattern done across the left side of my face, around my eye, up my forehead, and down my cheek. It looks muggle, but I can make it vanish and reappear as I like, and if I ever want it completely gone, there is a simple enough spell, so I won’t be stuck with a facial tattoo when I’m 60.

It started getting later in the day, and I had to decide what I’d do next. I wasn’t going to go back, but hotels are expensive and get you noticed after a few days. I could stay in my trunk, but I’d need to find a safe place to put it, where I wouldn’t get caught. Or…I could ask for help. It took me a little bit to work up the courage, but I went to Jer for help. Gypsy was with him, and both of them were furious about the bruise and split lip from mother’s slap. I stayed the rest of the summer with Jer’s family.

Staying with Jer’s family was a little strange. His mum, Frida, was very….attentive. She sort of fluttered around me at first, pushing food at me, making up a room for me to stay in, always…paying attention to me when I was in a room with her. She wanted to know where I was going when I left the house, what I planned to do while I was out, when I thought I’d be back. She treated me almost like I was one of her own kids, not just some runaway stray Jer had brought home. It…was a little much for me, to be honest. My parents…weren’t…and the staff at Hogwarts aren’t really parents, they don’t really interact with us much one on one. And Professor Thorne is kind of…well meaning, I suppose.

Jer’s family though, from what I understand, kind of has a habit of adopting strays. Jer is adopted, as are most of his brothers and sisters. Their dad, Olan, seems okay, but he kept his distance for the most part. I’m not sure what I would have done if he’d been as…attentive as Jer’s mum. Most of Jer’s siblings were nice, though I’m still not sure what they really think of suddenly having another girl in the house out of the blue. Luke, the second-oldest boy, seemed to like pranking me. Jer said it wasn’t meant meanly or to try to get me to leave, so I tried to ignore it. The littlest, Balder, is actually kind of cute. He’s really bubbly, and I didn’t have the heart to shoo him away, so he sort of followed me around a lot when I was at Jer’s house. Honestly, such a full house was sort of overwhelming, so I did spend a lot of time out and about. I’m not sure I could have handled being in one place all summer anyway.

This next year is going to be interesting though. I’m done pretending to be a sweet little girl. I’ve got a tattoo splashed across half my face, and I’m not looking to start problems or anything, but I’m done being a passive wallflower. I guess I’ll just have to take things as they come, and see who I really am now that I’m taken off my masks.

This year was actually kind of fun. I was surprised by how many kids liked my tattoo, even if some people didn't. But it wasn't for others anyway, it was for me. And...it helped. Every time I looked into a mirror, I remembered. I really applied myself this year to my classes, looked over my notes, studied the things I didn't quite get instead of just letting it slip by me. When I really buckled down and revised, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I'm no Ravenclaw, but...I'm not as stupid as my parents always said I was. Some people didn't like my new attitude. Too bad. I like the new me, and I'm not going back.

Quidditch was great, even if the beaters weren't. I got knocked out one game, but the team won, and we took the cup! I've been flying chaser, but if our beaters can't get their act together, I'll have to consider changing positions. Oh well, that's for next year.

I should probably feel guilty about not even considering going 'home', but I don't. They had my whole life to step up and raise me, and they didn't. I haven't heard from father at all, and I still have access to the family vault. ...I wonder if mother even told father I ran away? ....I wonder if she even remembers, or if she got so blackout drunk she forgot? I suppose it doesn't matter. They're not part of my life anymore.

Jer's family took me in again. I feel like I might have been adopted? It's still very strange to have an adult actually care about me. And the little boy, Balder, seems to like me. I'm not really sure why, but I suppose he's cute?