Chapter 10

On the run, Skuld Weasley reached King's Cross.

She hated lateness, so she went ahead without looking back and crossed the barrier with determination.

Stupid Muggles didn't know anything.

She carried her luggage with the help of Marcus Flint, who still didn't realize that she was the one who had made the chair disappear that day and burned his shirt in another incident, all while chewing Muggle gum.

She entered the train without paying much attention to which compartment she was in and looked out the window at the families gathered on the platform.

Among them was hers.

Not a glance in her direction. Not the slightest concern for her well-being.

She took out her diary and a pen she had acquired in the non-magical world, which was more practical than ordinary pens, and opened it to a random page.

It didn't matter, the important thing was that she could talk to him.

"My family doesn't even care that I'm on this damn train."

The ink vanished and transformed into different letters.

"They don't deserve you, Skuld Weasley."

"I know. You're the only one who understands me, despite who you are."

"Who do you think I am?"

"Who do you think I think you are?"

She giggled and closed the journal.

This was madness—suicide, and she knew it.

She only needed to investigate one thing, and then she would know what to do with the diary, with herself, and with all the information she possessed.

Now she was powerful, she could change many things without even realizing it yet.

. . . . .

She snorted at the comment of her compartment mates.

"Come on, Skuld," the dark-skinned boy elbowed her. "You're different."

"Pure blood runs through your veins."

They blatantly ignored his remark.

"I'd like to make the Quidditch team this year," Draco sighed.

"Believe me, you will, blondie," she replied.

Draco smiled slyly at her.

She returned the gesture.

. . . . .

She stopped in front of the carriages pulled by the most curious horses she had ever seen.

They looked like skeletons, but instead of frightening her, they intrigued her.

She would investigate them, as it seemed no one else could see them but her.

It made her feel special.

Instead of joining Draco and her new friends on the same carriage, she entered a different one.

Coincidentally, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Neville Longbottom were on it.

"I'm sorry to come in like this. Do you mind if I stay here?" she asked politely.

"No, it's fine," Dean replied with a nervous smile.

"What's your name?" Neville asked, somewhat blushing. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Skuld Weasley," she introduced herself.

Unconsciously, the four began the most interesting conversation they had had in days.

She forgot about Tom Riddle and her suspicions. She forgot that her family disliked her. She forgot that she saw things others didn't. She even forgot her own name.

Because she felt complete, even if she didn't know it yet.

. . . . .

"It's a shame you're in Slytherin," Dean commented, pouting in annoyance.

"Yes, you're good, not like them," Seamus added, nodding toward Marcus Flint and her new friend, Uric Jason.

Skuld smiled sideways in amusement.

"They treat me well, and as long as they do, I can't complain about my house," she replied, approaching their table. "Shall we see you in class?"

"If you want, we'll also meet on the grounds. There's a place…" Dean let the sentence hang. "Tomorrow, look for us by the tall tree by the Black Lake."

She nodded excitedly and said goodbye, sitting at her table and watching as the first years entered.

And among them was Ginny Weasley.

Of course, she was in Gryffindor.

Like all the Weasleys.

Except for her, the odd one out.

. . . . .

That day, a letter arrived from her parents.

It wasn't a long-winded rant like her brother's, it was a simple letter.

She opened it carefully, giving a piece of toast to Errol, and slowly unfolded it.

"You are irresponsible."

A great way to start a letter, Skuld thought sarcastically.

"Instead of staying with your family and helping your brothers cross the barrier, ensuring they don't take the car, you run away."

"We have also seen that because of you, Ginny feels bad. She sent us a letter yesterday. She says you look at her with disgust, and I warn you that if you continue like this, you will be punished next summer."

"What a poor image you have given to the guests! Poor Evelyn told me you were kind of weird, and Harry surely thinks so too."

"I won't tolerate that behavior this year, and I hope you stop associating with people like the Malfoys and Notts."

Molly & Arthur"

She placed the letter on the table carefully and gestured for Draco to step back a bit.

Then she set the paper on fire, drawing the attention of the headmaster, who had been lost in thought as he was every day.

He feared the worst.

And now, even more so, seeing her reaction to such written words from her family.

When only ashes remained and McGonagall had already scolded her, she returned to her thoughts and continued eating.

"I don't know if I want to know what that was," Blaise joked, his mouth full.

'Disgusting,' Skuld thought.

Because she was the only Weasley who hadn't lost her manners.

She wasn't a pig like Ronald.

Nor did she annoy people like Fred and George.

Much less did she boast like Percy.

And she didn't make things up for attention like Ginny, either.

"I burned a letter," she said, shrugging after swallowing her chips.

"Obvious lady award," Draco chimed in.

She merely shrugged with a small smile.

"Fire girl, the one with the explosions is coming," Theo murmured, glancing behind her.

"Eh… Hello, Skuld," a voice greeted, and she turned to see Seamus. "W-We wanted to know if you're coming after class."

"Sure, Seamus," she confirmed.

"I… This… Goodbye." He ran off, his ears tinged a tender shade of red.

Cute.

Albus Dumbledore noticed a hint of light.

A pinch of hope.

. . . . .

She had never been interested in Gilderoy Lockhart until now, but once he was in front of her, it was impossible to ignore him.

It was hard to overlook his disgusting smile or the increasingly inflated lies that spilled from his mouth.

She was given a questionnaire like the rest of the class, and she couldn't suppress her laughter while reading the questions.

A rebellious streak emerged, and she began to write quickly.

When she finished, she handed it to him like the rest of her classmates, mockingly.

"No, Miss Weasley," he denied, reading her response with a disgusted expression. "My favorite color is not brown because… Does it say here that it's because I identify with the color as it is just as…? Shit?"

Several laughs erupted.

"My respects, Professor Lockhart," she said mockingly. "You've managed to read a compound sentence."

Gilderoy ignored her.

"And my perfect gift would not be a correction pen for…" he lowered his voice, "letting it correct every increasingly fat lie that comes out of me."

"Oh, my mistake," she chuckled lightly. "I think question ten will be correct, professor."

"What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite drink?" he anticipated the worst. "No, I don't like drinking cat urine in heat either."

"Incorrect assumption," this time Lockhart, embarrassed and somewhat annoyed, paid attention to her. "I must act like a bitch in heat, considering that I think I am the queen and mistress of Hogwarts, when I am only a stage act. When I reach one hundred and fifty, which should be in two years or so, my fame will fade as quickly as if I had been told to talk about my books with Veritaserum."

"Twenty points from Slytherin, Miss Weasley!"

She shrugged and fist-bumped Draco under the table, who looked serious but was laughing on the inside.

Just this once, no one cared that they lost twenty points.

[T/N: huh, yeah...Draco is definitely being a bad influence on her, but I don't really care, you go, girl! If you like this chapter then leave a comment, write a review, and drop some stones! If you want to read some advanced chapters then check out my Patreon.]

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