Uniform

Uniform: consistent, standardized, homogenous, identical, unvarying, even, regular, the same.

Hogwarts took away my identity.

I have always been the contrasting girl, the misunderstood, and mysterious female that all the boys wanted. It was in my genes: my mother was the same, my sister was the same, and all of my cousins were like us. I thought it was rooted so deeply in me, nothing could change the way I was. How very wrong my beliefs were...

During my first year, uniforms made me feel proud. They were upper-class statements; they expressed your talent and the hopes in your future.

Over the next four years, I started to feel trapped. The uniforms were charcoal black, and the little specks of colour on them were only there to label us. We were not only standardized students, but our abilities were also limited to the House we were in. As a Ravenclaw, I was not supposed to be brave, loyal or cunning; I was only a good student. I was supposed to bury myself in books and become Valedictorian.

I love books, that's true, but I do not lack the qualities other Houses need. I am a mixture of everything Hogwarts had to offer, but I am not given credit for it. I became a Prefect, Quidditch player extraordinaire. Even so, I am still considered a bookworm, nothing more and nothing less.

The other Ravenclaws are typical, all except that mad Luna Lovegood. She is a freak; I never cared too much for her.

Cedric died. Everywhere I went, boys were wearing the same uniform he used to wear. The uniforms reminded me of our first kiss, of everything we went through together. I turned to Harry Potter, but he was too messed up and insensitive to offer any real support. He was in love with me, I know, but my analytical nature didn't allow me to answer the same way.

I am looking in the mirror now. I'm dressed in the ever charcoal uniform, with my Head Girl badge pinned on it. I feel like a poster girl: perfect and without a personality. The past two years have been rough: the war started, Hogwarts was under siege for a month last year, and I felt lonelier than ever. No boy would come near me after the incidents, and girls are intimidated by me. I like the respect, but not the fear. I'm just a girl. A Head Girl, maybe, but with an emphasis on the Girl part. I want to fit in, and I do, but at what cost?

I remember a very strange bloke that graduated at the end of my fourth year. Percy Weasley. He was Head Boy, and very proud of it. He wore the uniform even more proudly, with the badge gleaming from it. I wish I could be like him. Unfortunately -- or is it fortunately? -- I am not.

I can't breathe in these clothes. They strangle me, they tie me to my books and quills, and I hate it. I think they were always meant to do this. They were meant to erase any trace of real personality in a student and make them act like the House he/she was in. It's even worse for girls: the skirt covers the leg down to the knee, the shirt is not nearly tight enough and the shoes are horrible. You look like a taller first year until you graduate, and it does no good to one's self-esteem.

I have asked Professor Dumbledore to do something about the situation repeatedly, but he blatantly ignored my requests. He told me that uniforms are a Hogwarts tradition and that, as much as he encourages novelty, some lines must not be crossed.

I'm holding a pair of scissors. My Gryffindor side is ecstatic: I'm going to cause a lot of trouble. The Ravenclaw crest is on the floor now, along with half of my skirt. I have already shrunk my shirt to a reasonable size. My new shoes are waiting patiently next to the trimmings.

My new uniform is anything but regular: the skirt is quite short, the blouse is form-fitting, the shoes are high-heeled and there's no sign of the House I belong to. Perfect.

I'm heading towards the East Wing, trying to ignore the shocked gasps of my Housemates. I have already had History of Magic, but Binns was too dull to notice anything out of the ordinary.

"Miss Chang! I certainly did not expect this kind of behaviour from you! You are the Head Girl and must set an example! Fifty points shall be removed from Ravenclaw and I shall see you in my office in ten minutes!" McGonagall was furious.

Now I'm heading towards the unpleasant appointment with no regrets.

They must understand one thing: we're not the same.