Hollow

Creux Lestrange

"Abott, Hannah!"

A little girl glanced around with wide eyes. Her uniform was a size too large and her brown unkempt hair hung into her face. She had unfortunately both an odd face and body structure, as if she'd inherited completely different features from two people that looked nothing alike. Her forehead was too large, her green eyes too far apart, her lips extremely thin, her cheeks very hollow while her chin was round. Her shoulders were sharp and bony and her legs seemed too short compared to her upper body half.

The girl stumbled forward as the line shortened in front of her. Dread filled her at the thought of having to walk to that old stool and battered hat with everyone watching.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

The girl tucked in her head, trying to appear smaller. It usually worked. She had grown quite skilled at disappearing into the masses and remaining unnoticed.

"Lestrange, Cr-"

McGonagall's voice stopped for a moment, before she continued, "Lestrange, Creux!"

The girl kept her eyes on her feet and walked forward. She felt the hard stares and heard the whispering voices. But she had expected that. It hadn't been any different at the orphanage for magical children. She'd learned before she could speak that she was the offspring of two hated criminals.

She already looked the part, being ugly and unwanted. All everyone would wait for was for the moment when she actually became a Lestrange.

She sat down and the hat was slid onto her head and over her eyes.

"A Lestrange," said a quiet voice into her ear. "I never expected to see another one of you here."

Creux swallowed nervously.

"I see self-doubt and a lot of worries inside that little head of yours. I could put you in the house where you'll thrive, where you'll develop and become someone. Or I could put you into the house which will let you remain unnoticed and unimportant."

She tried to listen attentively, tried to understand what the hat was saying.

"So what will it be? Hmm?"

Creux bit her lip. "I'd like to go into the house where I'll be great," she whispered.

"So I thought," said the hat. "The question remains, what kind of a great person you'll be. The great one that everyone expects you to be? Just like your parents?"

The girl shivered.

"Or the great one you want to be?"
The hat hummed quietly. "We shall see if you've got a backbone. Most likely not. Anyhow, it will be- SLYTHERIN!"

A table to her left began cheering and the hat was lifted off her head. Creux stumbled towards the table and sank down on the bench. Many older students from the other houses looked at her frostily, but the ones sitting at her table were smirking widely.
Creux felt her heart lift a little.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad.

****

Two years later, Creux Lestrange was a quiet, stony-faced girl who never spoke unless spoken to, never smiled and was never, ever seen with other students.

"Watch it, Lestrange," a seventh-year Gryffindor snarled and roughly bumped into her. Creux stumbled backwards and clutched her bag to her side. Not even glancing at the boy, her green eyes focused on the door at the end of the hallway and she kept on walking.

She entered the classroom and sat down in the back, while a few late students rushed in after her and occupied the last empty seats.

"Today, you will learn how to glamour," said McGonagall, snapping her fingers to get Malfoy's attention, who'd been busy talking to Goyle.
"Glamouring and transfiguring are two different things. Instead of changing something into something else, you only give it a different appearance. The glamor wears off at some point, but lasts longer depending on the witch or wizard. Who can tell me how to distinguish a transfigured object from a glamoured one?"