All my life I was thought of as, crazy, weird, bad luck, a curse. Even my parents thought so. They hated me since the day it happened. The day I fell from that tower.
I was three. My aunt and I were playing in her castle, just north of Dublin. my parents and grandmother were down stairs talking. She was tickling me and I started shrieking with laughter. I lost my balance and toppled out the widow, smashing it. Still laughing.
I can't help that I'm always cheerful, everyone thinks that when I'm happy, something bad will happen, so they stay away from me. My aunt is the only person who understands me, and my best friend, my only friend. We're like two peas in a pod, both thought of as weird, hated, and both going to Hogwarts. I stay over at my Aunts castle a lot, she comes along a lot too, I never go back in that tower though, no one does.
Now I'm at Hogwarts I have a few friends, I'm happy they're here.