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She didn't quite fit in with Gryffindor, but the sorting hat was never wrong. So she didn't protest. She had no friends in the house, not yet at least. The house she had always dreamed of becoming was Slytherin, or at least Hufflepuff. Unfortunately she ended up here.
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The truth was they were probably right to put her into Gryffindor. She was a young woman who wasn't afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve, who had enough courage to do what she thought was right.
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She supposed she didn't like the stereotypes about her house, and she didn't like the stereotypical people in her house.
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Though she knew, she couldn't help how people were, and she couldn't help how people thought. She wished that one day, everyone could get along for who they were, and not for the house they were sorted in or the blood they were born with.
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It was true she was a soft girl, but deep inside of her she wanted to ruin that. She wanted to get rid of that innocence. Her rage begged to be unleashed. Her madness crave for freedom. Her lust crying out for some type of release. Her want for adventure rushed through her veins. Her need for more taunting her with every step she took. And well, she didn't know what to do with these feelings. She wished someone understood.
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