In a world of wizards, I chose Malfoy.
Among superheroes, I chose Loki.
Among gods, I chose Medusa.
They say villains are often misunderstood—
that their pain outweighs a hero’s motive for peace.
But that’s not quite it, is it?
Villains were crushed to the depths of the earth,
yet they learned to grow in the dark.
They carried their cuts deep within their hearts,
tending them just enough
not to bleed—
until their reasoning felt complete.
And the world romanticized their suffering,
glorified their agony.
They were cursed,
and still chose to rise.
They were taught there was only one throne to sit on,
only one supreme power to attain,
only one man fit to rule the world.
And sometimes—
they folded before a woman,
forgetting empires, crowns, revenge and conquest
for the sake of love.
So don’t blame me when I choose a villain.
Because in doing so, I choose his desires,
his potential,
and the entirety of who he is—
not just the scars he bares
The sorting hat knew me well.
I had a pet Basilisk and knew where they all dwell.
I speak parcel tongue, but I do not like Malfoy
I am waiting, barely breathing.
The sorting hat is making all kinds of noise, like a raid
Spitting and snorting, I close my eyes, afraid of the result
You hate Malfoy? He screams, outing me in front of the hall.
Hufflepuff? Are you kidding? That was truly a stupid call.
Come back here! The sorting hat demanded, angry now.
I ran for my life, not eager to go back to that cow.
He chases through the hall while the rest of them cheer.
I go home to mama; maybe I will come back next year.
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