*Unknown POV*
An alarm clock rang beside my bed jolting me awake. It was 4 in the morning and while the rest of the city slept I was awake ready to go to work.
While brushing my teeth I looked back at my cupboard. It seemed to be almost glistening with my favorite books.
I wasn't born in the best circumstances. An "Oopsie" child whose father and mother threw him into the orphanage before he could speak his first words. I had never seen them not after I could comprehend what a parent was.
The orphanage despite its shaggy appearance and food that tasted worse than dirt had a small library. Which much to my surprise actually had books. 2 of them although they were in tatters with pages missing and smudged ink. It had been the one and only time I had my curiosity piqued to such an extent. The matron at the orphanage didn't like me reading those books.
'At least she shouldn't have thrown it at me.' I said while rubbing my left eye which had quite a nasty scar on it. I remembered when in another of her drunken rampages the matron had seen me hiding behind the cupboard with both the books which I had brought back to reading conditions with my own hands and had thrown the books at my face again and again.
She got lucky and hit me square in the eye with the "Philosopher's Stone" and I had to be admitted to the hospital. No one asked me anything and neither did I tell anyone anything.
I returned to the orphanage and through thick and thin managed to enter a school.
Not once throughout those years had I ever forgotten about those books. They had become somewhat of an obsession for me. One of my end goals.
By the time I was in high school, the matron had died. She had been too drunk and had just collapsed in front of me while trying to hit me. I had left her there and the next morning the other children in the orphanage who for some reason didn't like me at all had called the police and I was awoken to the sound of the matron being sent to the hospital.
I had been sent to a few other orphanages but just like the previous one no one seemed to like me and so I had stopped trying to get anyone to like me. I had graduated with the best grades possible and had landed a job with such a high pay that those that had shunned me before wanted to get in my goodwill but by that time everything was already over for me. I had lived alone till then and I wasn't going to accept anyone in my private life anymore.
I woke up from my thoughts and found myself in front of the cupboard. The "Goblet of Fire" seemed to shine and as I drew my hand on its well maintained cover.
Finally 1 year after landing my job I was ready enough to go to a bookstore and buy the rest of the books, namely the "Deathly Hallows" I knew snippets of the story which I had not read. It was so popular that I would have to dig my head in the sand to not find out something's but I still wanted to read it with my own eyes while holding the cover in my own hands.
I moved from the cupboard and started making coffee. It was one of the things that I truly enjoyed and one of the few extra expenses I had. I brushed my teeth, showered, got dressed, made my own food, ate it, and was out of the house and on my bike in less than 30 minutes after I had woken up.
It felt good to go through the roads of the city with the moon illuminating it. Just me and my bike through the moon and out of everyone's eye except the trees that were glittering with light.
I reached my office by four in the morning and just like I expected my boss was already there shouting at some new employees in the parking lot for wearing their uniform wrong. I parked my bike and took off my helmet as the cold morning wind blew against my face which was only protected by a mask for health reasons and a black cloth covering my left scarred eye. I had gotten the idea from quite a popular character names Gojo and it looked cool enough for me so I had decided to wear this on my left eye whenever I went out.
Everyone looked at me and some of the female employees blushed while looking at my face. My visible eye was deep blue and my hair was white. Things that I had been ostracized for when I was young seemed to attract attention to me now.
My boss a 40 year old man who seemed to be so fit that he could pass for someone a decade younger stopped shouting at everybody, gave me a look, and entered the office.
As soon as I stepped foot in the office my mannerisms and everything else changed. For what I had been carefree one step out of it I had become someone else entirely as soon as I stepped in. It was time for work.
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