Post by emma elizabeth logan on Feb 25, 2011 20:02:34 GMT -5
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[/b][/div]emma elizabeth logan
fifteen ▪ slytherin ▪ kaya scodalario
SELF-CONSCIOUS , QUIET , SARCASTIC , INTELLIGENT , DEPRESSED
When I was five-years-old, I told my mum and dad that I wanted to join the circus. I guess, even as a little kid, I always knew that I wasn’t like everyone else. I would always be different. I would never understand what people considered normal. So, now, at fifteen, I can completely understand why I’m in the same boat as I was then. As a matter of fact, I still sometimes dream about what life could have been like if I’d joined the circus at 5.
Growing up in the Logan household was never a big hassle. I mean, we were a pureblooded family with an average sized fortune and a decent home. My parents got along really well and my sister was beyond perfect. I think, for most of my life, I was the only thing that didn’t make sense in our house. I mean, look at it this way, my parents and sister are all these blond haired, smiling people. I look more like my great aunt who had dark hair and freckles. I was never smiling like the rest of them. While they sat and ate their food with manners, my mum was constantly telling me to cross my legs and put a napkin on my lap.
Alice was always so perfect to me. Our parents loved us equally, of course! They weren’t the types of people who would love one of their children more than the other! I just always kind of knew that Alice made them more proud. They loved me, but they would never, ever understand me. My mum wouldn’t even try to understand me! She’d just stare at me with confusion and panic and I’d smile at her with this grin that said I was my own person and I wouldn’t ever change for anyone. Maybe that drove them crazy, but they never told me. They were too kind, all of them.
I idolized my big sister. I remember thinking she was so amazing. I couldn’t ever be like her because I was Emma and she was Alice and Emmas and Alices were entirely different creatures! But, at the same time, I’d sometimes stare at myself in the mirror and wish I had her rosy cheeks and flowing blond hair instead of my sea of freckles and dark tangles.
By the time Ali went off to school, I had the house all to myself. I wrote to her, pretty much daily. I’d save the parchment scraps in a pile and then tie them all up in a scroll and mail them out at the end of the week. I’d write to her telling her the stupidest things. I’d say how mum and dad made me eat spinach, completely forgetting I was allergic to it. I’d write to her telling her I kissed Edgar Beaureguard, the muggle boy down the street, on the lips! I’d write to her telling her that I missed her more than I’d missed dad when he’d left on his two week business trip or mom the time she left for a month to take care of our sick grandmother. Ali had to know how much I loved her, still love her. I made it known. She was the only person I could ever love openly. Everyone else made things much too hard.
I remember my first train ride on the Hogwarts Express. I remember going with Ali through the platform and finding a compartment. And then, I remember Ali leaving to go find her friends. She promised she would be back to talk to me. That morning, I’d gotten into an argument with my mum about houses. She and dad had all these expectations for me. They said it would be perfectly fine if I was a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw, those were acceptable houses. My mum said she’d laugh if was a Hufflepuff and she’d be ashamed if I was a Slytherin! Logans weren’t Slytherins! It was just so unheard of! We were a good family and we needed good houses for our students. I told her she was being a bit harsh considering I could end up in any house. Of course, I didn’t say it in those words. I ended up giving her the silent treatment. That’s always been my specialty. I’m good at silence. So, when Ali never came back for me, I decided that it was all shit! Everything was shit and I couldn’t stand it! My family was ridiculous and I didn’t need to put up with it.
Instead of taking that time to go off and make new friends, I decided to instead sit there in this kind of eerie silence. I looked so young and brooding. I scared away three older students. Finally, a group of other first years wandered into my compartment and spent the whole ride talking to each other while I sat there in silence. They thought I was mute. I let them think that. I let most of my teachers think that as well.
When I was sorted into Slytherin, I figured it was more out of spite than an actual need to be in the house. Then again, I have a lot of the qualities the house offers. I remember being sorted and looking down at the Gryffindor table where my sister looked shocked and a little hurt. That night, up in my dormitory, I wrote a five page letter home. I told my parents I was in Slytherin and they’d better get over it and that they couldn’t control me. I was in control. I held all the cards. I was powerful and I liked it.
That was how all the manipulation first came about. It was in those early days where I played silent. As time went on, I stopped talking to my parents. I would stop eating for days and days at a time. By about third year, I started rebelling in all the worst ways. I started smoking constantly, I started drinking and stealing my parents’ liquor. I let my grades slip on purpose, even though I’m very smart and could pass my courses without even studying for most tests. I would make friends with people and then do horrible things to them because I like making people squirm. I like reminding people that none of us really have any control. Everything is always out of our hands. We live and then we die and that’s it.
By fourth year, I started having boys wanting my attention. They’re all the same. They only want to sleep with me. I doubt there’s a single guy in this school who would have any intentions otherwise when it comes to me. So, I played around a bit. I let everything become a game and I dragged as many people into my own little rebellion as I could. I wish I could say I have a reputation like some of the older girls, but people only see me as two things. I’m a ghost and I’m trouble. I’m the girl who wanders around in silence and who makes it hard to say anything because everything is a game. Everything is an invitation for an honesty over-dose. People are stupid and I’m not. It’s my job to be real with them all.
Here I am in my fifth year. I didn’t make prefect, oh shocker! I did make my quidditch team. Given, I only joined because I’m an incredibly good flyer and my dad told me he’d be proud of me for trying. I had to give it a shot. I don’t want to make my parents miserable. I’m already a Slytherin and I obviously don’t fit into our perfect family. I’ll give him that. I’ll let him think one of his daughters is going to be the next great quidditch player. Why not?
These days, I’ve been trying to give up my constant silent treatments. I’ve come to learn that most people don’t want to hear the things I have to say. I’m mean. I’m just a mean, cruel girl. I have a temper and a fowl mouth! I’m stubborn and aggressive and I love all the worst things in the world. I don’t know how this year will turn out, but I’m guessing it won’t be pretty. I’m almost hoping it won’t. Sometimes, the messiest things can also be the most lovely. Maybe I’ll figure myself out this year. Maybe I’ll find some way to be happy. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll find a good circus to join. There’s always the circus.
------
It’s usually against my principles to just give out this kind of information, but I suppose I have to. It should remain under lock and key somewhere in the Hogwarts archives. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. I don’t want the wrong people knowing the wrong things about me. Here we go though. I’m not about to just ignore a request for information…
My wand is made of hawthorn and is 9 ¾”. The core is dragon heartstring. I’ve been told it’s good for Transfigurations work but that’s my worst subject so, I daresay Mr. Ollivander may have been wrong. There’s not much else to tell about it. It’s a really simple, clean-cut kind of wand. No handle, no designs, nothing too hard to keep up with. I don’t think there’s anything quite as ordinary out there.
My Patronus. That’s kind of personal, don’t you think? You might as well throw in asking me about my favorite sex position if that’s how this is all going, right? Sorry, too sarcastic, I know. I’ll stop. Okay, my Patronus. It takes the form of a hummingbird. I’ve only had to cast a Patronus about three times in my life so far. Only one of those times did it take on its full form. I used this one memory of my older sister baby-sitting me as a kid. She was watching me and we left the house and went for this huge walk and saw all these different little things that were completely ordinary on any other day. It was being with Ali that made them special. Ali explained them to me and made all the simple things seem so amazing.
These days, they’ve got dementors guarding all kinds of things in the Wizarding World so, it’s hard to avoid the things they do to you. For me, it’s always the same. I don’t flash back to any horrible memories from my youth. I don’t hear some mortifying, terrible sounds or screams. Instead, I black out. I just sort of black out and feel nothing. I guess, that’s how it is when you feel depressed. Everything becomes numb and nothing is all there is left. I feel… Nothing. I feel nothing and that’s the worst that I possibly can feel.
Some time in my third year, we learned about boggarts. We were fortunate enough to find one trapped up in the Astronomy Tower so, we got to have a go at getting rid of it. A lot of people were afraid of some pretty silly stuff. I remember one guy was horrified of turtles. I couldn’t shut up laughing. Anyway, that’s not important. My fear wasn’t like their’s. Mine wasn’t silly or stupid or irrational. I saw my sister. She was dead. Not really dead dead. But I saw her covered in blood and her eyes were glassy. She was gone. She wasn’t Ali anymore. I guess, I’m just afraid of losing the person who I always looked up to the most and always turned to for advice.
Two weeks ago, I was out with some friends wandering the school and we found this mirror in a locked up classroom. We’d gone in there to smoke cigarettes and talk about how annoying Charms class had been, but we were surprised at what we found there. We all took turns looking, seeing what our hearts desired. When it was my turn, I saw myself smiling. I didn’t know what to say. So, I turned around and started running. I got out of there as fast as I could. My only desire is to be happy. I can’t get anything right, can I?
I’d love to tell you that I’m like everyone else in terms of this war. I’d love to jump up and say, “Yeah, I’m a Slytherin and I’m training to become a Death Eater like all my friends are!” It’s not that simple though. I’m not that kind of girl. Yes, I’m manipulative and sneaky and conniving and I make choices for myself before anyone else, but that doesn’t mean I want to go out and kill anyone. And it certainly doesn’t mean that I think I’m better than or superior to anyone based on blood status. Don’t get me wrong here, I’m still better than everyone, but that’s a stupid reason. So, I’m staying out of it. I don’t want anything to do with this. I’d love to up and join whoever is fighting against it, but it would be way too easy to end up dead if I made that choice. I’m still a Slytherin girl. I know too many people who have too many strong opinions about all of this. It’s a war, not a game or a joke. I can’t take charge of it and I don’t want anything to do with it. That’s all. That’s my take on everything.
When I was five-years-old, I told my mum and dad that I wanted to join the circus. I guess, even as a little kid, I always knew that I wasn’t like everyone else. I would always be different. I would never understand what people considered normal. So, now, at fifteen, I can completely understand why I’m in the same boat as I was then. As a matter of fact, I still sometimes dream about what life could have been like if I’d joined the circus at 5.
Growing up in the Logan household was never a big hassle. I mean, we were a pureblooded family with an average sized fortune and a decent home. My parents got along really well and my sister was beyond perfect. I think, for most of my life, I was the only thing that didn’t make sense in our house. I mean, look at it this way, my parents and sister are all these blond haired, smiling people. I look more like my great aunt who had dark hair and freckles. I was never smiling like the rest of them. While they sat and ate their food with manners, my mum was constantly telling me to cross my legs and put a napkin on my lap.
Alice was always so perfect to me. Our parents loved us equally, of course! They weren’t the types of people who would love one of their children more than the other! I just always kind of knew that Alice made them more proud. They loved me, but they would never, ever understand me. My mum wouldn’t even try to understand me! She’d just stare at me with confusion and panic and I’d smile at her with this grin that said I was my own person and I wouldn’t ever change for anyone. Maybe that drove them crazy, but they never told me. They were too kind, all of them.
I idolized my big sister. I remember thinking she was so amazing. I couldn’t ever be like her because I was Emma and she was Alice and Emmas and Alices were entirely different creatures! But, at the same time, I’d sometimes stare at myself in the mirror and wish I had her rosy cheeks and flowing blond hair instead of my sea of freckles and dark tangles.
By the time Ali went off to school, I had the house all to myself. I wrote to her, pretty much daily. I’d save the parchment scraps in a pile and then tie them all up in a scroll and mail them out at the end of the week. I’d write to her telling her the stupidest things. I’d say how mum and dad made me eat spinach, completely forgetting I was allergic to it. I’d write to her telling her I kissed Edgar Beaureguard, the muggle boy down the street, on the lips! I’d write to her telling her that I missed her more than I’d missed dad when he’d left on his two week business trip or mom the time she left for a month to take care of our sick grandmother. Ali had to know how much I loved her, still love her. I made it known. She was the only person I could ever love openly. Everyone else made things much too hard.
I remember my first train ride on the Hogwarts Express. I remember going with Ali through the platform and finding a compartment. And then, I remember Ali leaving to go find her friends. She promised she would be back to talk to me. That morning, I’d gotten into an argument with my mum about houses. She and dad had all these expectations for me. They said it would be perfectly fine if I was a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw, those were acceptable houses. My mum said she’d laugh if was a Hufflepuff and she’d be ashamed if I was a Slytherin! Logans weren’t Slytherins! It was just so unheard of! We were a good family and we needed good houses for our students. I told her she was being a bit harsh considering I could end up in any house. Of course, I didn’t say it in those words. I ended up giving her the silent treatment. That’s always been my specialty. I’m good at silence. So, when Ali never came back for me, I decided that it was all shit! Everything was shit and I couldn’t stand it! My family was ridiculous and I didn’t need to put up with it.
Instead of taking that time to go off and make new friends, I decided to instead sit there in this kind of eerie silence. I looked so young and brooding. I scared away three older students. Finally, a group of other first years wandered into my compartment and spent the whole ride talking to each other while I sat there in silence. They thought I was mute. I let them think that. I let most of my teachers think that as well.
When I was sorted into Slytherin, I figured it was more out of spite than an actual need to be in the house. Then again, I have a lot of the qualities the house offers. I remember being sorted and looking down at the Gryffindor table where my sister looked shocked and a little hurt. That night, up in my dormitory, I wrote a five page letter home. I told my parents I was in Slytherin and they’d better get over it and that they couldn’t control me. I was in control. I held all the cards. I was powerful and I liked it.
That was how all the manipulation first came about. It was in those early days where I played silent. As time went on, I stopped talking to my parents. I would stop eating for days and days at a time. By about third year, I started rebelling in all the worst ways. I started smoking constantly, I started drinking and stealing my parents’ liquor. I let my grades slip on purpose, even though I’m very smart and could pass my courses without even studying for most tests. I would make friends with people and then do horrible things to them because I like making people squirm. I like reminding people that none of us really have any control. Everything is always out of our hands. We live and then we die and that’s it.
By fourth year, I started having boys wanting my attention. They’re all the same. They only want to sleep with me. I doubt there’s a single guy in this school who would have any intentions otherwise when it comes to me. So, I played around a bit. I let everything become a game and I dragged as many people into my own little rebellion as I could. I wish I could say I have a reputation like some of the older girls, but people only see me as two things. I’m a ghost and I’m trouble. I’m the girl who wanders around in silence and who makes it hard to say anything because everything is a game. Everything is an invitation for an honesty over-dose. People are stupid and I’m not. It’s my job to be real with them all.
Here I am in my fifth year. I didn’t make prefect, oh shocker! I did make my quidditch team. Given, I only joined because I’m an incredibly good flyer and my dad told me he’d be proud of me for trying. I had to give it a shot. I don’t want to make my parents miserable. I’m already a Slytherin and I obviously don’t fit into our perfect family. I’ll give him that. I’ll let him think one of his daughters is going to be the next great quidditch player. Why not?
These days, I’ve been trying to give up my constant silent treatments. I’ve come to learn that most people don’t want to hear the things I have to say. I’m mean. I’m just a mean, cruel girl. I have a temper and a fowl mouth! I’m stubborn and aggressive and I love all the worst things in the world. I don’t know how this year will turn out, but I’m guessing it won’t be pretty. I’m almost hoping it won’t. Sometimes, the messiest things can also be the most lovely. Maybe I’ll figure myself out this year. Maybe I’ll find some way to be happy. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll find a good circus to join. There’s always the circus.
------
It’s usually against my principles to just give out this kind of information, but I suppose I have to. It should remain under lock and key somewhere in the Hogwarts archives. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. I don’t want the wrong people knowing the wrong things about me. Here we go though. I’m not about to just ignore a request for information…
My wand is made of hawthorn and is 9 ¾”. The core is dragon heartstring. I’ve been told it’s good for Transfigurations work but that’s my worst subject so, I daresay Mr. Ollivander may have been wrong. There’s not much else to tell about it. It’s a really simple, clean-cut kind of wand. No handle, no designs, nothing too hard to keep up with. I don’t think there’s anything quite as ordinary out there.
My Patronus. That’s kind of personal, don’t you think? You might as well throw in asking me about my favorite sex position if that’s how this is all going, right? Sorry, too sarcastic, I know. I’ll stop. Okay, my Patronus. It takes the form of a hummingbird. I’ve only had to cast a Patronus about three times in my life so far. Only one of those times did it take on its full form. I used this one memory of my older sister baby-sitting me as a kid. She was watching me and we left the house and went for this huge walk and saw all these different little things that were completely ordinary on any other day. It was being with Ali that made them special. Ali explained them to me and made all the simple things seem so amazing.
These days, they’ve got dementors guarding all kinds of things in the Wizarding World so, it’s hard to avoid the things they do to you. For me, it’s always the same. I don’t flash back to any horrible memories from my youth. I don’t hear some mortifying, terrible sounds or screams. Instead, I black out. I just sort of black out and feel nothing. I guess, that’s how it is when you feel depressed. Everything becomes numb and nothing is all there is left. I feel… Nothing. I feel nothing and that’s the worst that I possibly can feel.
Some time in my third year, we learned about boggarts. We were fortunate enough to find one trapped up in the Astronomy Tower so, we got to have a go at getting rid of it. A lot of people were afraid of some pretty silly stuff. I remember one guy was horrified of turtles. I couldn’t shut up laughing. Anyway, that’s not important. My fear wasn’t like their’s. Mine wasn’t silly or stupid or irrational. I saw my sister. She was dead. Not really dead dead. But I saw her covered in blood and her eyes were glassy. She was gone. She wasn’t Ali anymore. I guess, I’m just afraid of losing the person who I always looked up to the most and always turned to for advice.
Two weeks ago, I was out with some friends wandering the school and we found this mirror in a locked up classroom. We’d gone in there to smoke cigarettes and talk about how annoying Charms class had been, but we were surprised at what we found there. We all took turns looking, seeing what our hearts desired. When it was my turn, I saw myself smiling. I didn’t know what to say. So, I turned around and started running. I got out of there as fast as I could. My only desire is to be happy. I can’t get anything right, can I?
I’d love to tell you that I’m like everyone else in terms of this war. I’d love to jump up and say, “Yeah, I’m a Slytherin and I’m training to become a Death Eater like all my friends are!” It’s not that simple though. I’m not that kind of girl. Yes, I’m manipulative and sneaky and conniving and I make choices for myself before anyone else, but that doesn’t mean I want to go out and kill anyone. And it certainly doesn’t mean that I think I’m better than or superior to anyone based on blood status. Don’t get me wrong here, I’m still better than everyone, but that’s a stupid reason. So, I’m staying out of it. I don’t want anything to do with this. I’d love to up and join whoever is fighting against it, but it would be way too easy to end up dead if I made that choice. I’m still a Slytherin girl. I know too many people who have too many strong opinions about all of this. It’s a war, not a game or a joke. I can’t take charge of it and I don’t want anything to do with it. That’s all. That’s my take on everything.
tippy ▪ skype: tiffany.saxe ▪ pacific
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