Changing Harry Potter: Draeka Malfae

1: Hi, My name is Draeka Malfae

A/N: Here are her eyes (and her scar) Just imagine it more girl-like and darker eyebrows and she 10 years old btw...sooo younger ehehe ( also this image was mostly just to show her scar and where it is on her face, so she doesn't actually have that face structure)

Hi, my name is Draeka Lucia Malfae. I know, weird name, but everyone just calls me Drae.

I never knew my parents well enough to know much about them and I have been living in this orphanage/boarding school since I was 5 years old. My parents' names were Lucia and Christopher Malfae. They were, apparently, a mysterious pair, who were never found.

They disappeared when I was 5, and their case baffled the police. The only evidence that was found was their car, completely destroyed on the beach, with a splatter of blood on the driver's car window. My parents were not inside, and the investigators tested the blood for a DNA sample. It did not belong to my parents or anyone identifiable.

I had no other family members apparently. And before you say anything, I know, I know, that is sooooo cliche, but does it look like I care? Nope, absolutely not. Anyways, I was being babysat, when my parents never came back.

Everyone was so shocked, and they knew that there was no way they would leave me. My parents loved me, is what I was told. But, no one else who knew me did enough to take me in, so I was sent to an orphanage where I had the chance of being adopted.

One day, after a year, a very nice couple came and decided they wanted to adopt me. Everything was ready, I was going to start a new life. That hope was all ruined when on the very morning I was to be adopted, my parents-to-be walked in to see me knocked out, on the ground, with an odd scar that went across the side of my eye.

It was a peculiar scar because it wasn't deep, It just skimmed the skin on my right eye, making me look like Anakin Skywalker or something. The most horrific part, really, was the fact that there was blood all over the room. Above my small bed, were the weird symbols written in the blood.

The couple was horrified, and I was all over the news. They called off the adoption and no family wanted me after that. My hopes of being adopted now are like, I don't know, negative 6 million?

I have been told that I was quite beautiful, but looking at my scar makes me feel more like a freak. A survivor freak, but still. My weird blackish silvery eyes with golden specks and my stupidly wavy-ish hair with huge curls that just could not pick what color it wanted to be, making my head look like a piece of wood or something, all of it is not to my preference, but when is it ever, right? A piece of auburn hair here, a hazel one here, an almost black lock here, a muted brown right here, and a very weird piece of almost white strand right here. I have weird genes. 

The teachers at the orphanage don't particularly like me. I am known for being sassy, hardheaded, strong, and, I would like to very proudly say, VERY VERY clever. The only people who like me are my small group of friends, whom I was never extremely connected to, I must say, I am a pretty lone wolf. And of course headmaster Fredric. He and I are pretty good friends if I do say so myself. I am the only one with the privilege of calling him 'Fred'. I started calling him that when I was 7 years old. Here's how that went....

Angry tears ran down my face as I buried my head into my little knees in despair. That stupid Libby Anderson had actually KILLED my pet caterpillar. I was going to help him grow into a beautiful butterfly, but she had ruined his dreams.

I decided to skip class today, it was English class after all. Nobody likes English. Even I, the girl who loves everything about every class she has, hate the subject with a passion. Suddenly, the sun disappeared, and I looked up to see a large shadow towering over me.

A low raspy sigh came from behind me.

The only man here was the headmaster, whom I only saw at dinner, and never dared talk to. I knew it was him, and I was screwed. I looked up to see him. His eyes were so much softer than I thought they would be. His dark green pair of eyes looked down at me in pity. The old man picked me up, sat down, and placed me on his knee. I had no idea what to say, I knew I was in trouble, but he looked and held me so softly.

He patted my back gently and said, "Now, child, can you tell me what is wrong?" I buried my little head into his big coat and cried, wrapping my arms around the nice old man's neck.

"That Libby killed my little buddy caterpillar, Harry," I cried. "He was in his little cocoon when she pulled him off of the little lid of my jar!" I looked up at the old man. He was rubbing his white beard in contemplation.

"Where is this little cocoon?" He asked. I guess He really hoped that I hadn't buried him or anything, maybe we could save him.

"Still in his jar in my room, Mister," I said, giving him a worried and hopeful look. We went up to get the jar when he saw that the cruel little girl had not damaged the cocoon greatly. He kept the jar with him, maintaining it as best as possible. I visited him every day after dinner to see little Harry. One morning, we watched him get out of his cocoon and fly out into the world as a beautiful butterfly. We have been good friends ever since, and he is like the grandfather that I never had.

Now, I am almost 11 years old, and the smartest (but not most serious) girl in the orphanage. I'm the kind of girl who can look over a review sheet for five minutes before a test and get a perfect score. I always push myself to be at LEAST 5 steps ahead of everyone. It is my specialty.

I am stealthy (I think) and have always wanted to be a ninja, for some reason. I love running and dancing and fighting (like a ninja)( And yes, I do work out) (sorta) (MWAHAHAHA). I have always excelled at everything, sometimes without trying.

But I am still that weird girl whose parents disappeared, who has a scar on her eye, who has a very weird body with long noodle-like and awkward (but strong if I do say so myself) arms and legs. And a very long neck that I have always hated. If I didn't have such a weird past and body, my ego would be bigger than the freakin moon. But I'm humble on the inside, don't worry, don't worry. Maybe worry a little bit. 

Well, now you have met me! (Not that you care very much but still)