A/N: Sorry if I diss your name at some point in this prologue. It’s not meant to be offensive. It’s just super late, and I can’t think straight, and I still have a chapter of notes to go through. So sue me or something, as long as I get to finish this weird and rambly story. :)
My name is Amera. Call me anything else and I will hex you into oblivion… and quite possible the next century. Actually, scratch that. I WILL hex you into the next century, if not further (Yes, that’s right, capital letters AND italics). I will use the Bat-Bogey hex and the Jelly Leg hex and anything else I could possibly get my hands on. Don’t forget, I AM a witch, with access to a colossal library. Even the restricted section. Oh, you're scared now!
Good. Now that you understand that, let me give you the reasoning behind the threat behind my bloody name. And yes, I did just curse my name. You would too, trust me. See, my mother decided that it would be just fabulous if I had a unique name. So she decided a few things. First, that my name would start would A, and that every letter in my first name would correspond to one of my middle names, and that the last letter of my first name, would be the first letter of my last name (that is until I got married and it gets changed to Potter, but that’s a whole different story). I hope I don’t have to change my first name, once my last name gets changed to Potter, because then my first name wouldn’t make much sense.
Now, I guess you are curious about my name. I’m only going to say this once. My full name, so be prepared. I mean, who would want to say my name over and over again? It’s 9 freaking names. 9! I have 9 bloody middle names. Who has 9 middle names? That’s right. No one. Who in their right mind would give someone 9 middle names? And I thought Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy were horrible names, until I looked at my own birth certificate and saw my own. It’s horrible. It really is. I mean -
DON’T CRINGE AT MY BLOODY NAME! At least I don’t have Bob in my name. Or… erm… Francesca or Dickson (haha.. Dickson… who would name their kid that? Sorry if that’s you. Poor kid. Oh wait. YOU DON’T HAVE NINE FREAKING MIDDLE NAMES. Be happy) or Bobby, or Bobbita or Bobilla… er… yea… I should probably have slept for more than a couple of hours last night.
If you haven’t figured it out. I’m rambly. At least in my head. Yes, that’s right. You are probably only a figment of my imagination. I can make you disappear, or explode, or implode, or whatever. QUIVER AT MY POWER! MWAHAHAHAHA!
Ahem, sorry. Anyways, I’m a 6th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In other words, I’m magical. Yes, I have a wand. Yes, I fly. Yes, I play quidditch, and before you ask, yes, I’m in Gryffindor. For that matter, so is Al… sigh… Al… (P.S. it might be a good idea to ignore me now. Because now, I’m going to ramble about his gorgeous black and messy hair that never stays down, and his bloody perfect muscles, and his- oh shit. He has a fucking girlfriend. The bitch.)
I hate her. She hates me. It started in first year, during the Sorting. We had met on the train, and at the time we were pretty friendly with each other-
What do you want? Oh? Sorry. Fine. I’ll go into more detail. I was running a little late, so when I got onto Platform 9 ¾, I rushed to find a compartment. I wasn’t paying attention and I may or may not have ran her over. So I apologized. And we became pretty friendly. But I could tell that she was slightly pissed off that I had messed up her beautifully done blond curls (as she had put it). I mean, she was a first year, no one is going to look at her! Especially the "delicious seventh year boys" that went there. Ummm, girly, you're eleven.
ANYWAYS… We had somehow gotten on the topic of names and which was worse. I had told her, that Meringue was not that bad of a name, that it was quite gorgeous really. She didn’t believe me, she wanted my name, of course I had told her my name was Amera, not that ridiculously long thing that takes up two lines on my birth certificate. Anyway, she was mad at me that I wouldn’t give her my name. She didn’t realize what torture I was saving her from. Anyways, you know how at the Sorting, Professor McGonagall says your entire name? Well, Meringue couldn’t wait to find out my “very pretty and gorgeous and to die for” name.
So, when Professor McGonagall had called my name, the entire hall had gone silent. Do you know how scary that is. EVERYONE is looking to see who the girl who has 9 middle names is. There were even whistles and all that stuff. When I got put in Gryffindor, I was so happy, and skipped to the table, before turning around to try to find Meringue. When I finally saw her, she had a sour look on her face, like she had eaten a lime or lemon or something. When “Meringue Stomachishe” was called up, no one made that big of a deal about a name that revolved around food. Her pride got in the way of our friendship. In other words, I made my first enemy on day 1 on my first year, with my first “friend”. Yeah. Now she's Al's (sigh) girlfriend. Blech.
SORRY SORRY SORRY FOR THIS SUPER CRAPPY CRAPPY CRAPPY AND SHORT BEGINNING… I CALL IT THE “I DON’T WANT TO DO MY HOMEWORK SO I’M GOING TO PROCRASTINATE AND START A STORY TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE I’M DOING MY HOMEWORK AND BEING PRODUCTIVE” BEGINNING. THE “IDWTDMHSIGTPASASTMILLIDMHABP” BEGINNING FOR SHORT. I MIGHT COME BACK AND FIX IT. OR I MIGHT NOT. DEPENDS ON HOW MUCH TIME I HAVE. YAY SCHOOL.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE KEEP READING BECAUSE IT WILL GET BETTER. I PROMISE. AND LEAVE A REVIEW. PRETTY PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE. I LOVE YOU ALL.
ALSO... REVIEWS WOULD BE ABSOLUTELY TOOTLY WONDERFUL. IT'S MY FIRST FANFIC THAT I'M NOT CO-AUTHORING. ANY CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM OR OTHER THOUGHTS WOULD BE FANTASTIC.
SHOOKA IS OUT. :) PEACE.
P.S. If you were wondering about the co-authoring part... I co-author fanfics with Salogel. Look her up, she's one of my favorite authors... out of like 20 or so. XD
Anyways, sorry for the all-caps, and the uber super long author's note... and longish P.S. note.... er... Shooka will shut up now. Please review. :D