A Story I Can\'t Write

Einstein once said “My life is a simple thing that would interest no one. It is a known fact that I was born and that is all that is necessary." I would like to think many wonderful things about myself, although I know many are not true. I am often conceived as a liar, a whore, a bad example, a slacker, a pessimist, a poser, a dreamer. I am merely a girl. I’m neither eccentric nor conventional, I am a skeptic.
My mother often says that my personality is the cause of my red hair, which I have from my father. One of the only things I've received from my father, besides my eyes and my last name.
My mother left my father when I was 3, so I don’t remember much. A remembrance of cologne that is swiftly swept away. A daunting pair of blue eyes, intruding for only a mere second.I won't say that I've never longed to know my father. Every little girl needs a father in her life. I'm no longer a little girl, however. It's been 14 years since I last saw my father. He hasn't attempted to owl or see me. I wish I could know what he was like, though. Maybe he is a good man?
I am foolish enough to believe in fairy tales. That is one aspect that differs between Einstein and I, he was a hellofalot smart than me, which is saying something since he drove himself to his death trying to prove "God" mathematically.
As you can tell for my disdain for the glorious father of all, I don't believe in him. I believe in something and I have nothing else to call it, but God, but it is not the "God" that Christians believe in. I also, believe in reincarnation. Not the reincarnation when you're reincarnated as an animal or plant or whatever, but when you are reincarnated as another person, which is why we can recall things that there is no way for us to possibly recall. I am, however, a witch, which is something that I have over Einstein.
I go to Hogwarts, really one of the only magic schools near England, unless you count Durmstrang and Beauxbaton. I would never be able to fit in at either. I'm not interested in dark arts, or the art of cosmetology and gossip.
My mother is not very fond of me, because of my likeness of my father. She avoids me whenever it is possible. This is how I found myself on the Hogwarts Express 3 weeks before term started. The Hogwarts Express runs once a week all summer, for those witches and wizards who do not have any other way to get to Hogsmead or need to get in touch with others at Hogwarts.
Approaching Hogwarts gates, I could only assume that Filch was quite surprised and abhorred the idea that a student would begin arriving earlier than need be. That old man enjoys his summers with his cat. How she became a Mrs. will always confuse me. Although, I'm sure I know exactly what he does with that cat. Ick. That makes me shudder.

"Git away, you nasty heathen." He obviously didn’t want me encroaching upon his oh-so amazing summer.
"I'm here to see Professor Dumbledore, sir." Being polite is supposed to appeal to people; at least that's what my mother always says. I don't think it’s doing much good with good 'ol Filch-y boy here.
"He's gone, girl." Gone?!
"Gone where?! When will he be back? Is there any other professor that I could talk to?" Completely shocked, I grope for ideas. What am I to do if Filch forces me to go back? Ignoring my question entirely, he replies.
"You're early. Leave." Filch left me standing at the gate.
"Well," I thought, "now I'm screwed."

I decided that sooner, rather than later when it would be colder, I should try and climb the gate. What was Filch going to do? Kick me out? Then I would be back where I started, so either way, this would be the better solution. I tried to climb the gate, not realizing that it was basically physically impossible, even with magic, to climb it. There was no where that I could get a foot or hand hold and levitating myself did nothing except push me back a little father, which I assumed correctly were the wards around the school.
Some alert must have sounded inside the castle because sooner, not only Filch, but Snape showed up at the gate. I assumed once again that they were the only people in the building. I was correct. Snape and Filch looked irate. I wasn't sure who was more likely to tar and feather me.
“Miss Crenshaw, I’m amazed that someone of your particular… manner, would show up early to school. I would expect you to show up days late with some halfwit excuse.” He smirked. He was always smirking. Why wouldn’t that smirk go away? It was like tattooed on his face.
“Oh. Damn. He’s said something and I completely tuned him out.” Snape was staring at me like I had three heads, while waiting for an answer. Not wanting to let him know anything about my life, I sifted through some good excuses.
“Well, first, let’s go inside. It’s getting cold and I don’t want to get pneumonia.” This was entirely unlikely, seeing as it was summer. Snape incredulously nodded and Filch looked like a 6 year-old who just dropped his ice cream cone.
“Entirely unlikely, but very well, Miss Crenshaw. Once inside, you will immediately tell me the reason you are here or you can outside the castle walls and you can sit there until term starts for all I care.”