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*


5. Sparks of Magic


Sparks of Magic

    Hazel had never been to the Gryffindor common room before. Curiously she wondered how to enter; at the Ravenclaw common room, questions were asked so as to gain access. Perhaps, seeing as Gryffindor was brave, she may have to fight something to prove her bravery? She had never had a year at Hogwarts when she was anywhere near this nervous. 

    The Gryffindor Prefect, who lead the cowering first years to the common room, was a tall and narrow fifth year with spectacles sloping down his long nose. His name was Daniel Smith and his robes were far too big for him. As he weaved through the corridors of Hogwarts, he tripped continuously on the hem. A few outspoken first-years stifled laughter whenever this happened, including Charlie Weasley. 

    Bill had continued to his dormitory along with the other third-years. Luckily Charlie was in Hazel's year and house, so she stayed by him as the first-years shuffled along. 

   Eventually they slid to a stop in front of a large, door-sized portrait. The woman on it was fat in a large, poof dress and neatly curled dark hair. When she spoke - yes, the portrait spoke - her voice was clear and deep. 

   "Password?" she inquired. The other witches and wizards gasped in surprise. Some cowered in fear and uncertainty; some stared wide-eyed in amazement; and some laughed at how fat the lady was. The Fat Lady raised her eyebrows but didn't pry. 

   Daniel cleared his throat. "Mandrake." 

   A password? Hazel thought skeptically. That was far easier than a mind-spinning question. All she will have to do is remember a password! 

   The portrait swung open and the first-years gasped in bewilderment. Daniel clambered inside, the first-years at his heal. Hazel tripped over her old robes, and Charlie caught her arm. 

   "Okay?" he asked. 

   "I'm fine," said Hazel, wiping her sweaty palms on her robes. 

   As they emerged into the common room, gasps and breaths bounced around the room in unison. Portraits were dotted about the walls of previous Head of Houses. A fire was roaring merrily in the fireplace, the flames bouncing dangerously as though alive. The chairs looked comfortable and worn, perfect for reading. Hazel breathed in the warm air and sighed. 

   In a squeaky voice, Daniel explained the location of the dormitories, then ascended the stairs. The first-years followed, and took place in their dormitory. Hazel said goodbye to Charlie, then slid into her dormitory. 

   Hazel spotted her tatty luggage wedged under her four-poster bed. The other girls, whose names she did not know yet, were already settled into sleep, their breaths heaving. Hazel struggled into her pajamas and slouched into bed. She closed her eyes and tried to match her breaths to the others and gradually fell asleep. She fell asleep as Hazel for the first time in forever. 


   Breakfast that morning was just as pleasant as usual. 

   Hazel pushed through the doors to the Great Hall and took her place at the Gryffindor table awkwardly. Her instinct was to turn to the far right, by the Ravenclaws, but the foreign Gryffindor was her home now. Unsurprisingly, her red and gold tie felt unusual; ordinarily she would wear her Ravenclaw tie every single year. At least her robes felt familiar.

   Hazel's first lesson that day was Transfiguration, which she knew from experience was rather difficult. The Gryffindor first years would be sharing a lesson with the Hufflepuffs. Hazel always got very frustrated, learning the basics ever single year and never moving forward. By then she could turn an animal into a water goblet with a flick of her wand. 

   Minerva McGonagall was the Transfiguration teacher, and the head of Gryffindor house. Unlike the Potions Master, Professor Snape, who was head of Slytherin house, she did not favour her house any more than the others. 

   "Welcome," she introduced, her voice crisp, her mouth thin. "To your first Transfiguration lesson. They say this is the hardest subject you will study at Hogwarts this year, so I trust you'll pay attention."

   As always, Hazel noticed that the other children were hanging on the Professor's every word. But Hazel knew that they would grow to loathe Transfiguration lessons. 

  "Today, we will start with the basics," began McGonagall in a clear, sharp voice, "by turning a needle into a button." McGonagall murmured an incantation, and her pointy needle transformed instantly into a round button. The first-years watched in amazement, each muttering the spell under their breath so that they could remember it. 

   Needles flew high through the air and landed safely on each desk. Hazel was sitting next to a mousy-haired Hufflepuff girl, who looked so thick she couldn't string two words together. Hazel picked up her needle and studied it. This was too easy. 

   McGonagall turned with a fluster of her cloak, and lowered her wand. Hazel dragged hers - the one she used every year: dragon heart string, willow, twelve inches, unyielding - out of her robes and aimed it at the needle. "Begin."

   Immediately, shouts of the spell echoed around the large classroom. Hazel tried not to succeed too soon so as not to arouse suspicion. But gradually she got extremely bored, and lifted her wand. 

  She said the incantation loud and clearly, and soon her shimmering needle was a small coat button. The Hufflepuff girl with the mousy hair stared wide eyed. 

  "Professor! Hazel has done it!" she called, waving her hand in the air to draw the teachers attention from a Hufflepuff boy, who seemed to have turned his needle into a pushpin rather than a button. 

   McGonagall's lip was a thin line. "Calm down, Poppy!" she scolded. "What was that?" Then her eyes lay on Hazel's button. 

   "There is always one who gets it correct first time!" said the Professor. Hazel's cheeks warmed remarkably. 

   She was going to love it this year. Being herself was perfect. 

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