Hazel Shadow was born in 1864. When she turned eleven, she went to Hogwarts. Since then she has been trapped in an anti-aging spell. Every year she goes through her first year again.
But Hazel has a secret. She is a Metamorphmagus: she can change her appearance at will. So every year, she goes as a new person, with a new name. Hazel Shadow is her real name. She is going as herself after all these years.
But what Hazel doesn't know is that revealing herself will have bigger consequences than she ever thought...
*Harry Potter Fanfiction. Cover made by the amazing Lily Anna Nightshade*


4. A Change of Pace


A Change of Pace


    “Shadow, Hazel,” Professor McGonagall said curtly.

    Hazel’s palms were sweating as she stepped up to the stool. She closed her eyes and sat, telling her self to calm down. This wasn’t so unlike the other Sortings she had taken part in, other than the fact that she was unaware of the outcome. As the hat descended on her head, Hazel forced herself to unclench her fists. Ravenclaw wouldn’t be so bad. That was where she usually asked to be sorted. After taking the same classes year after year, it was easy to excel right along with the others.

    She felt the weight of the hat on her head and opened her eyes. The Sorting Hat’s gruff, familiar voice sounded in her ears.

    Hmm... Where to put you? Brilliant mind, it seems, yet limited... 

    “Somewhere to be myself,” Hazel muttered quietly.

    Yourself, eh? You don’t seem like a Hufflepuff, so I’d say there’s no better place for you than GRYFFINDOR! 

    The Sorting Hat’s shout echoed around the room and claps came up from the appropriate table. Hazel smiled in relief and hopped lithely off the stool. Instead of heading to the table underneath the blue and bronze banner that was her usual, Hazel steered towards the cheering Gryffindors. She sat down confidently, remembering many of these people from their first years. Even so, she was forced to undergo introductions.

    “Hello, welcome to Gryffindor!” a thin red headed boy said. “I’m Bill Weasley.”

    “I’m Hazel Shadow,” she replied politely.

    “I know,” Bill replied easily, jerking his head at the Sorting Hat.

    Hazel nodded, grasping his meaning.  “Is that your brother?” she asked conversationally, gesturing towards the first year who had been called up as “Weasley, Charles”.

    Bill nodded, watching the boy’s terrified face as the hat twisted on his head. “My younger brother, Charlie. I’m third year, by the way.”

    “Oh, okay,” Hazel responded as Charlie was sorted into Gryffindor. With a broad grin, the short boy headed their way. 

    “Hey there, Charlie! Congratulations!” Bill said enthusiastically, clapping his brother on the back. “Welcome to Gryffindor, the house of the best. Have you met Hazel, here? She’s a first year too.”

    “Hi,” Charlie said cheerily. “I’m Charlie.”

    “Hazel,” she replied. Hazel had always liked Bill, he made an effort to be nice to all of the first years. She would know.

    “Where are you from?” Charlie asked conversationally as food appeared.

    Hazel shrugged, forming her answer with care. “All around. May parents traveled a lot.”

    Charlie nodded in understanding. “I’ve always wanted to travel. See the sights, you know?”

    Hazel nodded; she had seen much in her inordinate number of years. “How about you? Where are you from?”

    “Devon,” Charlie replied immediately. “Ottery St. Catchpole.”

    “I know of it,” Hazel replied. The conversation lapsed for a few moments, food overtaking the use of their mouths. When the relative silence seemed to have stretched on a bit too long, Hazel came up with another topic of discussion. “Have you any other brothers or sisters?”

    Charlie grinned, sharing a look with Bill. “Yeah, a few.”

    Bill scoffed, “A few as in five brothers, one sister.”

    “Goodness,” Hazel replied, eyebrows shooting up. “That must be chaotic.”

    Charlie nodded with feeling. “It is. Especially since the youngest, my sister Ginevra, is only three.”

    Hazel thought to herself that unless something changed, she’d be having a very similar conversation with Ginevra a few years down the road. Come to think of it, she would probably meet her descendants as well. Hazel shivered.

    “You okay?” Charlie asked.

    “Fine,” Hazel replied, adopting a more natural expression. Just fine, she was just fine. Or so she told herself.

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