Courage. Or lack thereof, rather.

Okay, so I'm going to make a little confession. 8/10 times that I stay up all night by myself, I end up playing dress-up like I'm 5 years old or something. Hair, make-up, dress, the works. Tonight was one of those nights. I am currently wearing my grad dress how I should have worn it two years ago. Its a billion times more sophisticated and put together than my awkward attempt at ...I don't even know what to call it....chic boho? I digress. I shall get back on track, instead of beginning a rant on my fashion errors of eighth grade. I feel elegant, gorgeous, beautiful, ya'know...all of those words they use to describe Audrey Hepburn. I think I currently look the prettiest I've ever been. And in about an hour, I'm going to take off my dress, pull the pins from my hair, remove my jewelry, and hop in the shower to wash off the make-up and perfume before I get ready for school. I'm afraid to bring any of part of what I look like now to school, because other people might notice the change and poke fun at it. And if they did that, I would feel like a behemoth clown and I would be paranoid about my appearance and all I would be thinking for the rest of the day would be Oh Jesus. They're probably all laughing at how stupid I look. Crap. That girl just looked at me. I wonder how many adjectives she's coming up with to describe how ridiculously dressed I am. So, I'm going to take this prettiness I've managed to find for myself and the confidence and power tied to it, and go wash it down the drain because I'm afraid that someone will come and rob me of it. It's going to be my own private little 4am secret. I'm such a coward.

There's not a wizard in the world that could perform a confundus charm strong enough to confuse the Sorting Hat into placing me in Gryffindor.